


The Merchant of Helheim

by JanecShannon



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgardian Tony Stark, Banished Hela, Banishment, Found Families, Gen, How Do I Tag, M/M, Magical manipulation, Memory Alteration, Odin's A+ Parenting, Protective Pepper Potts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-01-23 11:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 29,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanecShannon/pseuds/JanecShannon
Summary: "I banish you to the cold realm of Helheim," Odin announces to the courtyard for all to hear.You banish me because you have not the power or strength to kill me, Hela's eyes burn but muzzled as she is she cannot say it."If you're going to kill her just kill her," a young smith shouts.He is young enough, hot blooded enough, and angry enough to stand up to the Allfather of the Nine realms. Odin's gaze is no doubt heavy when it lands on him and he falters, if only briefly. Howardson lost both parents to this war, Odin knows. He watches the young man shrug off Staneson's hand on his shoulder and step forward."Helheim is for the dead. There's no food there and nothing will grow," he says defiantly. "There is no honor in sending someone off to starve to death.""If you feel honor bound to supply food, then you may do so," he slams Gungnir on the ground.There are now two sets of eyes burning at Odin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ragingstillness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragingstillness/gifts).



> This story came out of the following prompt by RagingStillness:  
>  _Tony’s an Asgardian and Hela’s banishment is well known. But there’s nothing to eat in Helheim so Tony still gets the title Merchant of Death but he’s just Hela’s Meals On Wheels_
> 
> She wanted a crack fic but I tripped over the prompt in a dark alleyway behind a Walmart and this happened. It's working title was _Meals on Wheels_ but I don't think it fits the tone of the story so I'm not keeping it. :/
> 
>  
> 
> **Some Important Notes:**
> 
>   * This story begins in 517 AD
>   * Ages run 60 human years to 1 Asgardian year
>   * Tony is about the human equivalent of 18, which makes him around 1080 (18 * 60) at the beginning of the story 
>   * **If you are here for the Loki/Tony** , it's going to be a few chapters before they even meet. Loki hasn't even been born yet. (For those of you worried, this story will not feature underage relationships). 
> 


The whole of Asgard gathered. They were tired and bloody, many of them had lost family and friends, but every man and woman who could stand did so to watch the young woman, chained and kneeling, get her due. 

Their beloved princess who had turned on them and slaughtered them without a thought once it suited her. 

“Hela of Asgard,” Odin speaks, not from his throne but from the top of the steps in the courtyard. The people deserve their chance to witness this. “You kneel before me for your treasonous acts against the people of Asgard. Do you have anything you wish to say before punishment is meted out?”

“I am naught but what you made me,” she hisses. One of the einjihar moves forward to re-fasten the muzzle that had been removed but she arches her neck, twisting to keep her head away as she shouts, “Do your worst, old man! You will nev-”

The muzzle is fastened.

Her words echo over an eerily silent courtyard.

“I banish you to the cold realm of Helheim,” he announces. 

_ You banish me because you have not the power or strength to kill me _ , her eyes burn but muzzled as she is she cannot say it. 

“If you’re going to kill her just kill her,” a young smith shouts. 

He is young enough, hot blooded enough, and angry enough to stand up to the Allfather of the Nine realms. Odin's gaze is no doubt heavy when it lands on him and he falters, if only briefly. Howardson lost both parents to this war, Odin knows. He watches the young man shrug off Staneson's hand on his shoulder and step forward. 

“Helheim is for the dead. There's no food there and nothing will grow,” he says defiantly. “There is no honor in sending someone off to starve to death.”

“If you feel honor bound to supply food, then you may do so,” he slams Gungnir on the ground. 

There are now two sets of eyes burning at Odin. 

* * *

After the war, food isn't _scarce_ , per se, but the food stores aren't exactly overflowing either. Hela had been perfectly willing to destroy crops knowing that no army can fight on an empty stomach. 

So Tony, not willing to sacrifice his family's personal food stores on their traitorous princess (even if it's more than he really needs now that it's just him to feed; no mother, no father) sets out to find the cheapest supplies he can manage. 

He is now duty bound to supply Hela Odinsdottir food because he opened his big mouth. He isn't duty bound to supply the  _ best _ food, though. Or even  _ vaguely decent _ . Presumably his only requirement is that it be edible. So he looks for meat full of gristle and grain full of stones. 

But no one will sell to him. 

_ You may be honor bound, but  _ I  _ am not _ , the merchants tell him. 

Eventually, he is forced to put together a small ( _ minimum required _ ) package from the family stores before heading to the Bifrost. 

It's a long walk. 

Once everyone realizes where he's headed they stare. 

“Son,” Obie says from behind him. Weary and sorrowful. “You don't have to do this.”

“The Allfather has given his orders,” Tony replies, walking steadily. If he stops walking he will falter. It took him all night to steady his nerves to get him this far. 

“The Allfather was very clear that you have a choice,” Obie says. “This is a project for you. A distraction. I understand that. But why not focus on something productive? You are the best smith in the realm now that your father is gone. Let's head to the forge and see if there's anything salvageable.”

“I am honor bound to ensure she does not starve.”

Obie grabs his arm. “And I am honor bound to ensure you are not killed by that treasonous wretch, Tony!”

“She won't kill me,” Tony promises. “She can't. No one else will  _ sell _ me food to bring her let alone bring it to her themselves.”

Tony rips his arm away and starts walking again, this time with new fire in his belly. 

He  _ will _ do this. 

No one is going to stop him. 

* * *

The murderous princess is lounging on a large rock when Tony’s feet touch ground in the unfamiliar realm. The air is cool and stale. No breeze stirs the dark, crystalline plants that cover the ground. The green-tinged clouds loom solid in the sky. 

“You certainly took your time,” she drawls, looking for all the world like the magic limiting chains running from her wrists, ankles, and neck to the one looped about her waist are meant to be some kind of fashion accessory she’s chosen to wear. 

“I was technically under no obligation to come at all,” Tony snaps, striding forward the couple of steps needed to toss the packed food at the foot of the stone. 

She looks at it then her eyes slide back to him. 

Tony's fingers tighten on the sword at his hip. 

Hela's moves are silken smooth and confident despite the chains. She sits up. She reaches for the bundle. 

The Watcher promised to be alert, Tony reminds himself. He  _ promised  _ to grab Tony at the first sign of trouble. 

“Hm. Not much but surprisingly good quality,” she says. “You'll do.”

“Don't expect that everytime,” his mouth snaps out before his brain can stop it. “No one would sell to me for you but eventually I’ll find someone who will.”

Her gaze focuses on him. Terror crawls up his spine but he holds firm. 

“So you brought me food from your own from your own stores? How very generous.”

“Food from my stores or food bought with money from my coffers,” Tony throws out in an attempt at causal, though it falls flat if her sharp grin is anything to go by. “It's more or less the same thing.”

She sets the food aside and rises to her feet. He draws his sword as a warning to keep her distance. This woman slaughtered thousands. He can't forget that. 

But it seems she cares not for she steps forward and bats the sword aside with the back of her hand as though it were a toy. 

“You cannot hope to stand against me. You are but a child,” she steps closer and Tony can’t help the involuntary steps he takes back and back  _ and back _ until he is pressed against one of the crystal trees. “You think you've seen war? You're too young to have even been called to a real  _ battle _ .”

Tony flicks the dagger he’d tucked into the inside of his vambrace and swipes. He should probably be insulted that she looks amused and indulgent as she takes a step back but he's mostly just grateful that  _ she takes a step back _ . 

When she turns to head back to her rock, Tony uses the opportunity to scramble back to the bifrost site. 

“See you next time,” she murmurs ominously at the same time Tony shouts-

“Watcher!”

The bifrost comes down. Then Tony is standing in the Observatory. Then Tony is  _ sitting  _ on the floor of the Observatory because his legs have decided not to support him any longer. In one hand his sword, in the other his dagger.

“You did well,” the Watcher tells him. 

“Did I?” 

It doesn't feel like it. 

“You are not dead,” the Watcher says in a voice that Tony thinks is meant to be encouraging but is really,  _ really  _ not.

Norns, Tony can’t do this. 

  
He  _ can't.  _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was beta'ed by Rouko although I made some changes to it after she finished so any mistakes you notice are mine.

Tony stands on the edge of his father's forge. Rubble litters the floor. Most of the dust has settled. The fires have long gone cold.

“We can fix the damage,” Obie says solemnly. “Faster to repair than rebuild.”

Tony shakes his head. “This was Howard's. I have my own place closer to the city.”

“Son-”

“I'm just here to see if any of the contracts are salvageable and then I'm going, Obie.”

“If you think that's best,” Obie concedes with a tired smile. 

Tony doesn't answer. 

* * *

A prince is born to their new queen. Rumors say he is as gold as Asgard itself. A bright and sunny child for Asgard's bright and sunny future. 

The other smiths send armor and weapons far too big for any baby. Asgard has known nothing but war and they have no other skills. The pieces are well crafted but utilitarian and will no doubt serve him well when he gets older. 

Obie makes him promise to send his best sword for the prince and a hairpin dagger for the queen. Traditional gifts. 

But Tony has been preparing for this since the Allfather’s marriage to the Vanaheim princess. And when the thunder rumbles and lightning flashes on the night of the babe's birth, he knows exactly what to make. 

Tony won't know until many years later, but it is the mobile he fashions with delicate silver clouds and flashing golden bolts of lightning that draws the eye of the Allmother. 

Most other gifts go into storage to gather dust, but the little mobile is set up in the nursery immediately. The breastplate he fashioned, engraved with swirling clouds and inlaid jagged gold lines for lighting, one sided so she can nurse the new prince herself if she chooses, makes its way to the queen's chambers. 

Obie is pleased with the increased business from the palace even if he's baffled by the increasingly decorative styling people are requesting. Engraving and multiple colored armors. 

_ Where are these ridiculous ideas coming from? _ he rages as he sends more of their smiths to other realms for training.

But Tony can make up the difference, he'd already had several armors to put out on display in his shop the first time the queen wore hers. He takes any of the custom orders that come in and none of the other smithies have even one smith trained yet. 

Even without Howard, the family business flourishes. 

* * *

Still no one will sell to him. 

Still they stare as he makes his way to the Bifrost. 

“You return,” the Watcher says as a greeting. 

Tony nods. His throat is too dry and he doesn't trust himself to talk at that moment. 

“I will keep a close eye.” 

“Th-” Tony's breath catches in his throat and he has to cough. “Thank you.”

He traces his fingers over the pommel of his sword, checking that it's there. He's added a second dagger to his back. Somehow, he doubts he'll be able to surprise her with the one in his vambrace again. 

He checks the buckles on his armor next but even he knows he's just stalling at that point. 

“Alright,” he says but makes no move into the Observatory. “Alright.”

“Are you going to come in or just stand in the doorway?” the Watcher asks. Tony has appreciated the way he’s been ignoring him for the past thirty minutes. Apparently, ignore-Tony time is over. 

“Come in,” Tony says but doesn't move forward. 

“That usually involves taking a step,” the Watcher says. 

“I’m getting there.”

The Watcher just hums at him and leaves him to it. 

Tony goes back to talking himself into not letting a woman starve even though he’s pretty sure she’s going to straight up murder him. 

* * *

She’s laying on the same rock. The chains are still in place. Other than the neatly folded cloths he’d wrapped the food in last time this could be an exactly duplicate of the last time he arrived. 

“Here,” he says and tosses the bundle as far as he can. He’s not making the mistake of leaving the Bifrost site again. She can come get her own food. He’s not even sticking around to let her get close to him. “Watcher!”

He stays on his feet when he lands in the Observatory this time. 

* * *

Month after month, one year then three then five, the same pattern. 

The merchants won’t sell to him. 

He takes from the family stores. 

“Here.” 

Toss.

* * *

Tony has to make an extended visit Alfheim. He can't avoid it (and, really, he doesn't want to). There’s a jeweler seiðrman there doing fascinating things with incorporating wire and stones that let warriors use the jewelry as a focus. Tony wants to see if the technique can be incorporated into armor or weapons but to do that he has to  _ learn it _ first.

He’s going to have to either give her additional food or come back multiple times to feed her. The merchants still won’t sell to him so in the end he decides it’s better to give her additional food from the family stores. Obie will make sure they’re restocked by the time he gets back anyway. 

Tony puts the packages together then throws the bags over his shoulders. Not quite so many people stare as he makes his way to the Bifrost. In five years, he's had the chance used it for other purposes now besides taking her food. They’ve become accustomed to his travelling again and most assume the large bags on his back are for trade. 

When the Bifrost lands, he doesn’t just toss it to her for once. It’s too heavy and there’s two of them for one thing. 

“My, what an abundance you lavish upon me,” she sneers from her rock. Does she ever move from it? Tony's only just realizing now that she is always on it when he bring the food. 

“Make it last, Prometheus,” he tells her, grunting a bit as the second bag leaves his shoulder. 

“Why?” she turns to sit up on her rock. Tony isn't sure whether it's a relief or a concern that she can still move considering how long she's apparently been laying there unmoving has to remind himself to squash the relief. She doesn't deserve it. Not after what she's done. 

“I'm going to Alfheim for a while. You'll have to watch out for yourself, don't eat it all at once, now,” And then, because he's had years to forget the terror of her, he walks up to where she's sitting and ruffles her hair. 

It's a stupid, foolish thing to do but Tony is running for the Bifrost site with a laugh before she can react. 

  
It's only after the light fades and the drab, glowing green of Helheim is restored that she finally shrieks, “How  _ dare _ you!” and makes an attempt to smooth her hair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By the end of this we have now reached 522 AD.
> 
> One thing to note: Remember that Tony is Asgardian. Even though five years have passed (and he's not 1085), he's still basically 18. 
> 
> Don't yell at me for Tony getting friendly with the one who started the war who caused his parents death. There are plotty plots afoot and not all of them are mine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mica asked how old Hela is, since it's not really obvious in the story I thought I'd share the answer with you here:
>
>> Hela isn't _actually_ that much older than Tony in an Asgardian sense but they're also at an age where the (relatively) few years make a much bigger difference. 
>> 
>> She's around 1,500 (25) at the start of the story so she's actually only about 400 (6-7) years older than Tony at 1080 (18). At that age, that's a big difference as opposed to when you're much older. Especially since Tony hasn't fully "come of age" yet, in their society. 
>> 
>> She's also fought in wars. She was a warrior, a general. She lead an (ultimately unsuccessful) rebellion against her own father whereas Tony's primary occupation is a smith. He can fight if he has to, but no one in their right mind would take him out of the smithy to put him on a battlefield. 
>> 
>> So some of her calling Tony a child has to do with age (as a 25 year old you don't necessarily see a _child_ child when you look at an 18 year old but you don't exactly see a fully-grown adult either), some of it has to do with her seeing him as unskilled and untried in combat, and some of it was just her lashing out.

Tony's biggest problem is that when he wants to know a thing, he has to know  _ everything _ about it. It comes with being the God of Innovation and Technology, he supposes. To really innovate  _ well _ he needs to have an underlying understanding of what the components he's playing with might do. 

Its normally not an issue but the trouble is right now he's watching Aðakán weave seidr into the fine gold strands of the ring in front of him and Tony has too many questions about things that, really, aren't  _ directly  _ related to the technique he wants to learn for his armor and weapons. He  _ could _ get by with basic knowledge of the specific seidr weaving technique. 

He could, he could, he  _ could _ ... 

Tony clearly needs to become a master jeweler and goldsmith. It's a requirement for the betterment of the Nine Realms. Has to do it. No choice. Oh well. 

This is going to take significantly more time than anticipated. He's going to have to make a return trip to feed his pet bag-of-cats goddess.

* * *

“I tire of old bread and stale water,” Bag-of-Cats tells him. 

“It's neither old nor stale,” Tony huffs a laugh.

“It's not  _ now _ ,” she protests, her voice taking on the tiny hint of a whine. “But when it has sat in those cloths and the water skins for two months? For three? Bring me something besides bread and water. I am a princess!”

“Are you?” he asks distractedly. 

“No,” she says with a wickedly sharp smile. “I am a  _ queen _ . The Queen of Helheim, the Goddess of Death. I am Ḧ̶̩̥́ẽ̸̢̯̹͐̉͝ḻ̷̟̍ą̷̡͕̾͑̄ ̷͚͈̳̋O̷̲̻̤̳̽͐̔̚d̵̩̉̅͐i̵̭̥̬͕̓̈͐n̷̞͍͇̋̅͂͗s̴̨̧̟̙͠͠d̶̹o̴͎͙̒͌̑̈́ṯ̷̨̨̤̍̏t̶̙̟͔̒̄ĭ̷̮͔̘͂r̸̥̺̣̫̀̈ -”

Tony shakes his head to clear the strange buzzing from his ears.

“Alright, your majesty,” he interrupts, laughing a bit as she climbs to stand on her rock in a dramatic post. Hands as far as the chains will let her, fingers curled, face toward the sky. “Get down.”

“Bring me something better next time or I will kill you,” she threatens petulantly, pointing at him.

“Kill me and you will have no food at all,” he points out, crossing his arms. Five years and her threats don't really hold much water any more. “I must learn in order to innovate and I have to innovate, I'm the God of Innovation.”

“By that logic I cannot be held responsible for killing people,” she sulks. “You're the only one nearby. Shall I fulfill my purpose with you? It's been so _ long _ .”

“I'm going now. Stop threatening me,” Tony tells her but his tone is light and he turns his back as he makes his way to the Bifrost site. 

“Bring me better food!” she shouts after him.

“Stop threatening to kill me!” he shouts back.

* * *

“Tony,” Obie drawls as he packs his bag to return to Alfheim. “Just a few minutes. You know it never takes you long to come up with something.”

“I have to get back,” Tony protests. “I need to finish this apprenticeship.”

“If you want to keep this standard of living while you galavant off you need to give me something,” Obie says. He rests his hands on Tony's shoulder's to make him look at him. “I'm just trying to look out for you, son. I am doing the boring parts so you can do the interesting ones you enjoy. But to do that, I need you do your part.”

Tony's shoulders slump and he gives in. 

“Alright, you're right. I've been neglecting things,” he sighs. “I'll come up with something before I go.”

“That's my boy,” Obie says and ruffles his hair. 

* * *

Tony is walking through the marketplace when the smell hits him. Hot, sliced rabbit on a freshly baked bun. The baker's daughter must have just learned her first preservation spell, the sign advertising the temporary Keep-Cloths wasn't there last time Tony was in Asgard. 

A whisper niggles at the back of his mind and he stops walking. Someone bumps into him from behind and give him a dirty look as they pass but he ignores them as an idea sprouts. 

It's a  _ terrible  _ idea. If he gives into her whims once, who knows what she'll demand next. 

It's a terrible, horrible, no good, rotten idea. 

Tony storms past the shop angrily and refuses to look back. 

Ten minutes later, when the baker laughs and asks who the second sandwich is for, he panics and says, “Obie.”

* * *

“You've already brought me my  _ prison rations _ for the coming months,” she's still sulking when the Bifrost comes down. Tony huffs a laugh as she flips over on her side so her back is to him. 

He doesn't say anything as he places the wrapped  sandwich on the rock behind her head. He doesn't wait for the smell to tickle her nose. He's already gone by the time she turns over and spots the sandwich. 

Tony will never know how her eyes stung in that moment as she delicately touched the food to check whether it was real. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring drunken Tony, honey cakes, and a revenge flower crown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by SuccubusKayko
> 
> We've got a first big time jump cause, much as I love you guys, I'm not going to write an actual millennia's worth of story. So. We're jumping about 120 years. 
> 
> Some Notes:
> 
>   * The year is now 637 AD
>   * Tony is now 1200 (20 equivalent) 
>   * Hela is now 1620 (27 equivalent)
>   * Rhodey is 1440 (24 equivalent). He's not actually old enough to join the Einjahar (they won't take you til you're 1,500) but he's off doing a pre-bootcamp kinda thing they set up. Their ranks are a bit thin so they want to bolster them as soon as they can, but not so much that they'll sacrifice their young. 
>   * Irrelevant to the story but FYI, Thor is now about 120 (2 equivalent). (I'm using him as a sort of marker for how much time has passed in the story since he was basically born right at the beginning. Before you ask: Yes, 60 years of the terrible twos. Poor Frigga.)
> 


Time passes. It flows on like a river, pushing and pushing ever forward, even in the realm of Asgard.

Tony goes shopping one day and stares at his list in bafflement.

_Poorly hulled grain_

_Gristly meat_

What could he possibly have needed _that_ for? Obie or one of the household servants stock the pantry and the storehouse and they'd never stock it with _poorly milled grain_ or _gristly meat_.

Tony certainly wouldn't eat it. He wouldn't even take something like that to his Bag-of-Cats in Helheim.

“What's got that big brain of yours so baffled?”

Tony looks up and smiles in delight.

“Rhodey! I didn't think you were going to be back in Asgard for another half century!”

“And miss your big twelve-hundred? I got _leave_ , you fool,” Rhodey laughs a bit, throwing his arm over Tony’s shoulder. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve seen you think that hard since you were learning to create damascus steel. What got you thinking so hard?”

Tony holds up his list. “I put this on my list. I wrote this list _yesterday_ but I have no idea why I would need these.”

“A prank?” Rhodey hums thoughtfully.

“That I can’t remember?” Tony says doubtfully.

Rhodey hums, “Were you drunk?”

Tony stares at the writing.

“That's...” _impossible_ he wants to say but this list is no more than a week old and he has no recollection of writing those words. It doesn't look like his drunken scribble but , unfortunately, it’s  “- within the realm of possibility.”

“Uh-huh,” Rhodey says in that special tone of voice of his. “Well there's only one thing to do about that.”

“And what's that?” Tony asks skeptically.

“You've got everything else on the list, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then we'll deal with it tomorrow! Tonight, we begin the birthday celebrations!” Rhodey shouts, drawing the eye of surrounding adults and more than a few smiles. Children hear the word _birthday_ and run to surround them, dancing and hoping for treats.  

Tony laughs, warmed by his Rhodey-bear's enthusiasm. He isn't paying attention when he puts the list in his pouch. It floats to the ground where its picked up by a raven and deposited in a nearby brazier.

The list burns and is forgotten.

 

* * *

“Rhodey,” Tony slurs a bit. After an idea pops into his head. “RhodeyRhodeyRhodeyRhodey!”

“Whhhh?” his wonderfully eloquent Platypus answers him.

“Rhodey. _Rhodey._ Honey cakes.”

“Love you too, dwarf,” Rhodey mutters and buries his face into his pillow in the universal sign for _stop talking, I'm sleeping_ . Tony ignores that. Tony has better things to do than _sleep_ , therefore so does Rhodey.

“No. Rhodey. _Honey cakes_ . I need them,” Tony says. Rhodey grumbles something undignified and closes his eyes. “ _Rhooooooodes_.”

“I will stab you if you don't shut up,” Rhodey replies and curls himself around his sword. “Just see if I don't, Tones.”

Tony might have been a _little_ more drunk than Rhodey when they got in bed. Hangover-Rhodey is always less fun than Drunk-Rhodey or Sober-Rhodey.

Tony is on his own for this adventure.

To the baker!

 

* * *

Getting the cakes is a bit of a blur.

He doesn't remember exactly what he told Banki, but the man was just closing up shop and was giving him worried glances.

“Why don't I help you home, son?” he asks just as Rhodey skids around the corner.

“Can't go home yet,” Tony says. “Have to deliver these.”

“Tones...” Rhodey protests but Tony know his weakness.

“I have honey cakes,” he announces proudly and holds up the box. “I'm going to deliver them now.”

Tony turns on his heel and starts walking.

“To the Bifrost!” Tony shouts, one hand holding his box of cakes securely against his chest the other points down the street.

Yes, Tony knows Rhodey's weakness. Rhodey's weakness is _Tony_.

(He hears an exasperated _Tony!_ from Rhodey and a hesitant  _Maybe I should come with you...?_ from Banki as he swerves a bit into a wall. It's ok though, Rhodey is with him and will keep him from walking off the bridge.)

(Or will at least fish him out after he let's him walk off on purpose for being such an _obnoxious little shit._ As long as he saves the cakes, that's fine. The baker is closed now. Tony can't get more until tomorrow. Maybe Banki will open his shop to give him more after he helps fish Tony out? Irrelevant.  Hasn't happened yet. Save the cakes!)

 

* * *

“Heimdall!” Tony shouts as he enters the Observatory holding up his prize. “Cake!”

“So I see.”

The flat reaction, though perfectly normal for the Watcher, is not what Tony was hoping for.

“Cake _for you_ ,” he specifies, in case that wasn't clear. He opens the box and takes one out to wiggle in front of Heimdall's nose.

Heimdall takes it at least.  

“Thank you,” he says primly.

Tony makes his way towards the Bifrost gateway. “Helheim, Heimdall!”

He snorts and repeats it a couple of times to himself until it doesn't feel like words anymore. _Helheim, Heimdall. Helheim Heimdall._ **_Helheimdall_ ** _._

“Helheimdall!” he says out loud.

“Don't open the-” Rhodey says but cuts himself off when the gateway fills with the bright rainbow colors. “Damnit. He's clearly drunk, why would you listen to him?!” he demands.

“He gave me cake.”

“That is a terrible excuse! You can't send him to Helheim!”

“Son,” Banki says to him, trying to encourage him away from the gateway. “Helheim is for the dead. If you go there, drunk as you are, the goddess of death will take great offense.”

Tony turns to face him so he can set up an awesome, fantastic, amazing exit. “It'll be fine. She'll think its hilarious.”

Tony steps backward into the Bifrost with a laugh at the horrified look on the baker's face as he leaps to make a grab for him.

His dramatic exit is no less dramatic, though significantly less graceful, entrance to Helheim. He lands flat on his back but the box of cakes lands on his stomach so he's going to claim this was part of the plan.

His head hit the ground hard though and now that he's laying down he's starting to feel a bit sleepy.

“You smell like a brewery.”

“Be nice to me. I brought you honey cakes,” Tony mumbles, shouting seems like a lot of effort all of a sudden.

“Hmm. And why did you do that?”

“Birthday.”

“I see,” her tone is amused. He feels cool fingers press against the heated skin of his neck. It feels _divine_ and he presses into it. “Which one?”

“ ‘m twelve-hundred,” he tells her.

“Oh my. Almost a man.” She's laughing at him. He can tell. Even though her tone is quiet, he knows she's laughing so he opens one eye to glare at her.

It takes a lot of effort to keep it open though so he closes it again fairly quickly.

“Brought you cakes. Sleepy now.”

“Then sleep. I will call Heimdall for you.”

“ ‘kay.”

He falls asleep so he isn't awake when she, takes the box back to her rock and spots the crystal flowers on the way back. Her eyes flick to the sleeping Tony with a wicked grin.

 

* * *

By the time Heimdall is called upon to activate the Bifrost once more, Rhodey and Banki have stirred up a crowd in the Observatory so there are plenty of people there to witness a sleeping Anthony Howardson, God of Innovation and Technology, return from the realm of the dead with a crown of crystal flowers adorning his head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by SuccubusKayko

“You!” Tony shouts and stomps towards her as soon as the Bifrost lands.

“Me,” she replies sitting up on her rock. She spreads her hands with an elegant twirl of her wrists. Then she catches sight of him and freezes with baffled delight, “Why in the Nine Realms are you still wearing that?”

“Nobody will let me take it off,” he says, ripping it from his head and flinging it to the ground. “ _‘It's a blessing from the Goddess of Death_ ,’ ” he mocks. “ ‘ _You don't want to offend her, do you?’_ “

“I didn't think anyone was so concerned with offending me,” she jangles her chains pointedly.

“I think they're more worried about what you'll do to them if they piss you off,” he says.

“Ah. Well that does sound like me. Although how I'm meant to do anything to them, trapped here as I am, is beyond me. They'd have to come here.”

“People do?” Tony says in confusion.  “You know, after they die.”

“Look around you,” her laugh is cold and sharp. “There are no people. No dead souls. This realm has existed for far longer than either you or I. If the dead were going to come here, wouldn't they already _be_ here?”

“I thought they avoided this area because we're alive?”

That had actually been one of several theories before the _there are no dead_ revelation. It wasn't a completely solid theory but it was the best one he had.

She lets him know exactly what she thinks of it with a scoff and lays back down on her rock.

Tony's irritation is gone but he wants the humor back so he sits down on the ground and leans against the stone. It's about as comfortable as it looks. It never occurred to him before but maybe he should bring her some kind of pillow? Or a blanket? She's never asked but he _can_ bring things without being asked. He'd given her a necklace when he finally graduated from journeyman to master goldsmith.

It's something to think on.

“Joke's on you,” Tony tells her, trying to bring back the light hearted joking. “Everyone thinks you love flowers. They're talking about decking the dead out in them to please you in case they come to you instead of Valhalla.”

“I hate flowers,” she hisses but Tony suspects it's mostly an automatic reaction.

“How long until that damned thing wilts and I can stop wearing it?”

“Hmm? Oh. Fifty years or so. Perhaps less because you're taking it out of its natural realm. Don't look at me like that, they're _crystals,_ what do you expect?”

“Or I could just leave it here and not wear it back,” Tony suggests hopefully.

“And lose my favor?” she clicks her tongue mockingly. “I'm surprised at you.”

Tony groans dramatically. “Fine. I hate you.”

“No, you don't.”

“No, I don't.”

 

* * *

They're still sitting there sometime later when Tony leans over to poke her in the side. “You should eat your sandwich soon. Mæva's gotten better at the preservation spells but they're only meant to be temporary.”

“You should tell them they should give me honey cakes instead of flowers,” she tells him. Her fingers drag over the ground until they find the flower crown. She studies it, adjusting a piece here and there before placing it back on his head with an amused smile as she says, “As one with my favor. You should tell them. And send the cakes through the Bifrost. None of this burying them with the bodies, that won't do me any good.”

Tony gives her a strange look. “We burn our dead.”

The look she gives him is piercing.

“Since when?” she demands.

“Since... forever? Since always.”

“Asgard. _All_ of Asgard burns their dead,” she says disbelievingly. “This isn't just some strange dwarven quirk of your family line from generations long past.”

“No. All of Asgard does. For as long as I can remember.”

“And my soldiers?” She asks desperately. “The ones who followed me instead of Odin in the rebellion? Were they burned or buried?”

Tony laughs incredulously. “What rebellion?”

She stares at him. “Why am I here? In Helheim, bound and chained for centuries, to be forgotten. Why do you think I'm here?”

“Goddess of Death, Realm of the Dead made sense. No one else ever really talks about the chains though,” Tony frowns as a thought occurs to him. “I don't think anyone else knows about them?”

“Did it never occur to you in over a century to remove them if there was no purpose for them?” she asks searching.

Tony opens his mouth to answer but his mind starts to feel clogged. He blinks and shakes his head to try to clear it. He opens his eyes when he feels a tight grip on his chin. Once his eyes meet the furious blue gaze, he can't look away. He struggles when he feels the teal seidr edge it's way into him.

“Don't really see you as a teal,” he grits out.

“My seidr is emerald. It is also currently bound so I'm forced to rely on the seidr in the necklace you gave me. Blue and green makes teal. Now stop struggling. I'm trying to figure out what has been done to you.”

“Nothing,” he says but he stops trying to force the intruding seidr out of him. “Nothing has been done to me.”

She says nothing for several minutes until...

“There you are,” she whispers, outraged. “ _How dare you?_ ”

Urgently, she takes the necklace he'd given her from around her wrist and clasps it around his neck. She presses her palm over the pendant and Tony watches in confusion as the emerald in her clothing dims and small holes appear.

“Listen to me carefully,” she says urgently. “You need to go get the tools to remove these chains and must go quickly. I don't have enough seidr unbound to protect you for long. The necklace will help keep your thoughts clear and your memories true. Avoid the ravens, if you can. Do you understand?”

Tony tries to think about what tools he would need but the cotton wool feeling is back. The hand on his chest presses harder, digging the necklace into his breastbone painfully, and the green fades from her clothes further.

“ _Do you understand?”_

Tony blinks his eyes. He nods with a clear head.

“I'll be back,” he promises and runs for the Bifrost site.

“Avoid the ravens!” she shouts after him.

She waits until he's gone to start panting, the drain more extensive than she had expected. It was necessary though.

Odin wants the rest of Asgard? Fine.

But not this one. This one is hers and the Allfather cannot have him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **This chapter:** Odin being a dick (remotely).   
> **Next chapter, probably:** Odin being a dick (in person).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by SuccubusKayko
> 
> Tony rushing in without a plan? That doesn't sound like him at _all_.

Tony keeps a steady pace back to his forge. It feels like every eye in Asgard is on him, watching his every breath and evaluating it. He doesn't run, that would bring too much attention, but his steps are quick and determined. 

He's so busy trying to be  _ normal normal normal everything's fine  _ that he misses the path to his forge and has to turn around to back track. 

This is his private forge. The one he had built adjoining to his house. He hears wings flapping from the big tree that grows in front of his house but he doesn't look. There are other birds in Asgard besides ravens, he reminds himself. 

_ Avoid the ravens! _

Is it normal for him to go straight to the forge after returning from Helheim? He doesn't remember, he's never paid attention. It's never been  _ important.   _ Maybe he should just-

The necklace hums against his chest. 

Tony goes to his house first, as is his habit. He takes off his cloak and takes off the stupid flower crown. Ruffles his hair to fix where it's been shaped by the damn thing. 

Tools. What tools will he need? Tools for... cutting? Do you cut chains? Maybe he should just melt them. He hasn't made chains in a long time. There's been no need. Maybe he should make chains again. It could be a fun challenge, to make some even  _ he _ couldn't break. 

The necklace hums. 

He'll take the seidr infused bolt cutters but he doubts that will be enough. If that was all it took she likely could have broken herself out. They may be useful to get the chains and cuffs off her once he's actually broken the binding though.

He'll take the locksmithing tools he's  _ technically  _ not supposed to have. Maria Carbonelsdottir was the locksmith in the family. She thought it best to pass those skills on to her son. Howard was flashy, always pleased to brag about what his son had accomplished when there were drinks to go around but the locksmithing was Tony and his mother's secret. She was the one to give him his master locksmith tools when he turned 746.  _ May they serve you well my son _ . 

The binding though. The binding. He can work with seidr for his craft but he's no seidrman. He does grab his mother's binding book and a few stones and metals. 

He pauses. A pillow. He'd wanted to take her a pillow for her rock. That's a good excuse to return.  He can hide the tools in the case. 

When he walks past the kitchen he realizes he hasn't eaten. It wouldn't hurt to delay long enough for a meal, surely? Even just some bread and hot broth. Something to fill his stomach. 

He makes it as far as the breadbox before the necklace hums. 

Tony blinks and stares at the bread in his hand. 

He needs to hurry. 

* * *

Tony was a  _ Hand Full _ when he was younger. He never meant to be troublesome but he was a bit  _ too _ quick witted and his mouth tended to get him in trouble. 

So when he opens the door of his house, pillow stuffed with the needed tools, and sees a black raven standing on his doorstep, he freezes. 

The necklace hums. 

The bird caws and flies away but Tony picks up the faint sound of marching. 

He is small, for an Asgardian. He knows how to sneak and hide in these streets. 

Hopefully they won’t be waiting for him at the Bridge.

* * *

The city floods with Einherjar.

He makes it to the bridge. 

He makes it to the Observatory. 

There is a raven sitting on the door. 

The necklace hums. 

The Einherjar make it to the bridge. 

"Helheimdall!" he shouts, breathless and slides to a stop in front of the gateway. 

"You are in a hurry," Heimdall observes. 

"Yeah, so, not to tell you how to do your job but..." Tony makes a turning motion with his hands. 

"You are a good friend to bring her such a comfortable looking pillow," he says flatly before staring out where he can no doubt see the Einherjar approaching by now. 

Tony looks down to see one of his chisels has pierced the pillow case by several inches. Cold horror floods him as he realizes he made it this far only to fail at the final stretch. 

Obie is going to kill him. 

(The  _ Allfather  _ is going to kill him. Probably literally.)

Rainbow floods the gateway. 

"You should go before they get here."

Tony goes. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which, Tony can finally think clearly, Hela can finally breathe, and the damn flower crown stops being a joke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bate'ed by SuccubusKayko
> 
> Hey, guess what? Mind whammy is done so I can leave Tony's perspective and throw in some of Hela's now. Yaay! 
> 
> So a few of you asked about Heimdall and his reasoning for allowing Tony through the Bifrost in the last chapter. Thing is, it's made pretty clear in the movies that he's loyal to Asgard above and beyond anyone, even Odin. In Tony's case, he hasn't explicitly been told to stop Tony. Yes, there are clearly guards coming but, really, I mean if you think about it, they could be coming for any number of reasons absolutely and completely unrelated to the _very comfortable looking pillow_ Tony is carrying *nudge nudge*. Heimdall shows in the movies that when his own honor dictates he do something he's perfectly willing to do it, even if it means disregarding an actual order and since he hasn't even received an actual order not to let Tony through............. As BrightEyesIllusionist figured out, Heimdall's Sight prevents Odin from screwing with his memory and thoughts.

Tony drops the tool filled pillow on the ground the moment the Bifrost lands. He allows himself five breaths (in..... and out.....) just to breathe and to let the consequences of what he's about to do really sink in. 

He’s still going to do it, of course, consequences be damned. 

But this is one of those instances where he's wishing there'd been time for a better plan than just  _ Hurry.  _

He finds her on her rock. Panting, the green of her clothes dulled further, the holes even larger. 

"That was fun," Tony tells her. And it had been. The fog, the sudden shifts in thoughts. They occured far more often in Asgard then Helheim. 

"Odin's power is greater there. And," she says pointedly, "You didn't avoid the ravens."

"It was waiting for me at my house in a tree," he says, annoyed, as he kneels next to her and starts pulling the tools out of the case. He should still hurry, just in case the Einherjar follow him through the Bifrost instead of waiting for him to return. "Come here."

Tony pulls out his mother's book first. He runs his fingers over the binding to get a feel for its shape before flipping through the book looking for a similar diagram and hoping his mother would have a similar one. Every locksmith had their personal flavor but Maria Carbonelsdottir, Goddess of Polite Conversation, had been one of the best locksmiths in Asgard. 

(Traps were a part of his mothers purview. Oddly enough, people never thought about how polite conversation could be littered with them and, oh, she was the best. At making them. At breaking them.)

He freezes at a page. The diagram matches perfectly. He had hoped for, at best, advice on how to break a similar binding. He had never expected the binding to have been one of his mother's. Tony reaches for the first strand of seidr to undo the binding but a hand on his wrist stops him. 

"You have not yet done anything that cannot be explained away. Even with my magic unfettered, I will not be able to protect you from Odin's wrath once you return to Asgard. You cannot take this back once it is done. Do not do something you will regret."

_ Do not regret  _ **_me_ ** _ , _ is what she really means. That it costs her to offer him this out is written on her face. Tony gives her what he hopes is a comforting smile and covers her hand with his. 

"I regret leaving you chained for a century. I won't leave you for another," he says and hopes that she understands. 

_ I don't regret you.  _

* * *

Hela feels the binding break. The rush of seidr is a mere trickle of what it once was but it’s more than she has felt in over a century. It's like drawing a full breath for the first time after having your ribs crushed. 

She is finally allowed to  _ breathe _ .

Tony removes the chains that bind her and she  _ stretches _ . Oh, how she stretches, to feel her muscles move in ways they have not been allowed to, no matter how she strained and contorted herself. 

And Tony lets her. He gathers his tools and the chains and lets her have a moment of privacy to just be. 

Then she turns to him and grabs his chin as she had before. 

He smiles and says  _ Green  _ when her seidr pushes into him this time. Searching, searching, searching. 

Until...  _ there _ . A vein of gold amongst the vibrant blue. Branching and rooting like Yggdrasil, itself, in his very core. 

She sends her own deep emerald and  _ strangles _ it. Once the roots and branches begin to recede, she grips it and  _ rips it out _ of him _.  _ It struggles to keep its hold but, oh, she is the better. Odin must maintain his hold over thousands and she just wants to free one. 

Once the gold is separated from the blue, she shreds the wriggling strand of seidr and let's it dissipate. 

The intruder is removed but now she must do what she can to protect another from invading his memories and thoughts. 

Tony trembles under her hand but he doesn't try to stop her.

* * *

The Einherjar are waiting for Tony when he steps through the gateway to the Observatory. It is expected, but no less unnerving for it. He is still trembling when they grab him (with rage, with sorrow, with exhaustion) and he sees them smirk at each other as they assume it is fear. 

(There might be just a  _ tiny _ bit of that too.)

But he has all of the facts now, and he has a clear head and his own thoughts to strategize with. 

As ridiculous as it was originally intended, the people of Asgard took the flower crown seriously and Tony knows the importance of symbolism. It rests proudly on his head now, grey flowers arranged perfectly. 

Odin may have the ability to wipe out the memory later but to wipe out something so many people know and are aware of takes time and effort. Communal memories are not so easily forgotten. 

So Tony makes sure,  _ he makes sure _ , people  _ see  _ and they  _ remember _ him as he is escorted to the palace with Hela's Blessing crowning his head. 

* * *

As soon as the Bifrost takes Tony, Hela turns her thoughts to her surroundings. If this is to be her home, she will at least make it a real one. Up until now there has been no need for things like a house. The weather here is constant muted green-grey cloud. Chained as she had been it would have been impossible to construct one, regardless. 

But she  _ is _ a princess. 

No. Intentional or not, Odin has granted her this Realm and made her queen.

As queen, she shall need a fortress. No pretty palaces for her, no. She shall require something defensible incase she has to find and rescue Tony and bring him here. Her fortress will need it’s own forge too then. If he is driven from his home, he will need a distraction. 

Hela rises to her feet and finally looks on her realm with the eyes of the Goddess of Death, Queen of Helheim. She  _ finally _ sees the souls of the dead that mingle around her; some wandering aimlessly, some clinging to the crystalline flowers and trees. They flow in and out of them like seidr, infusing them with themselves before withdrawing.

Most of them are ignoring her, but some glance her direction occasionally. Looking for orders? Clearly, she is their queen after all. 

“Let’s get to work,” she tells them. 

(She may have to defend her... Not her General. She’s not fool enough to place a sword in his hand unless it’s to repair it and Tony’s too soft to be her Executioner. Hela cannot bring herself to be the one to harden him. She’ll think of a title for him later.)

(Prince perhaps. She’s always wanted a brother.)

* * *

It is a stranger that lands at the Bifrost site. Dark skin, dark hair. 

_ Tall _ . So unlike her Tony. 

A flick of her wrist brings a sword to hand. She doesn’t throw it yet but keeps a good distance. 

His sword rests on his hip but he holds his sword hand up, empty and placating.

“I brought honey cakes. Tones,” he flinches at the name and works his jaw. Her eyes narrow, she doesn’t know a  _ Tones _ , “Tones says you liked the last ones he brought.”

The man doesn’t step forward but he does hold out a box similar to the one Tony had brought her before. Hela’s eyes flick to it momentarily but otherwise she allows no reaction to show on her face. 

“Alright,” he nods at her non-reaction and swallows. “I’m Rhodey. I don’t know if he... He might have told you about me?”

“Sweet Radish,” she makes up. 

The supposed-Rhodey’s face scrunches up in a telling way, “That’s... a new one but I honestly wouldn’t be surprised.”

Hela allows her stance to relax infinitesimally. “Are you here to plan his rescue?” she asks.

He laughs but there is a desperate quality to it, “No.”

“Is he alive?” she challenges.

He nods but his eyes are wet. 

“Then what?” she demands.

“There are murmurs of war with Jotunheim. Obadiah Staneson stepped in and somehow managed to shield Tony from the worst of the Allfather’s ire but it was suggested he not remain in Asgard for some time. The Allfather  _ suggested _ he go to Jotunheim to learn what he can and if possible try to smooth tempers before war breaks out.”

“Odin sends him to be forgotten. He sends him to  _ die _ ,” Hela sneers. The Jotunar won’t graciously allow any Aesir in their realm to return to Asgard before or after they declare war nor will they waste resources keeping them alive unless their important enough for ransom. 

“Yes,” Rhodey agrees with her bluntly, but though his eyes shine there is a small smirk on his face. “But don’t discount Tony yet. He has a way of wriggling his way out of trouble. People like the little hellion for some reason.” 

“On your advice I will not mount a rescue then but if he dies I will slaughter everyone in the Nine,” she threatens, not entirely an exaggeration. “And I will start with  _ you _ .”

“Yeah, a bit like that,” he huffs a laugh before. He finally takes a step forward holding the box of honey cakes out to her. “Look, he said he managed to make arrangements to get food delivered to you. He just needed to let you know that it might be a while until he can get back or contact you directly.”

Once she takes the box from him, his eyebrows twitch as he finally looks behind her. 

“I don’t remember him ever mentioning you having a palace.”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s new,” she answers casually. 

Her mind is already flipping through ways she can keep an eye on her prince and how she can swoop in and rescue him if necessary. 

He really is tragically bad with a sword. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Hela:** I've always wanted a brother.  
>  **Tony:** I mean... technically you already ha-  
>  **Hela:** _I've always wanted a brother._
> 
> I would just like to say that the damn flower crown was not supposed to stick around this long. I wanted it to be like... a throw away joke that was like "Oh, ha ha. You got me. I showed up drunk and you sent me back to Asgard with flowers in my hair. Now people think I traded honey cakes for flowers to the Goddess of Death." Except Tony and Hela are clinging to the damn concept for all their worth and I can't get them to let it go. It's going away next chapter though; I have a plan.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony returns from Jotunheim and two realms each gain a prince.   
> (... and technically one realm loses their prince too, but no body talks about that for like another thousand years so shhhh)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bate'ed by SuccubusKayko
> 
> Notes:
> 
>   * This chapter contains multiple time skips but these are the characters ages by the end.
>   * Tony is now 1527 (25)
>   * Hela is now 1947 (32)
>   * Loki has just been born
>   * (Still irrelevant) Thor is 447 (7)
> 


_ 762 AD _

Tony steps into Asgard for the first time in over a century and makes his way to the house that was once his. Hopefully still is. No one gives him a second glance, though whether that’s because they have forgotten him or because they no longer recognize him is still up in the air. It's been a hard journey.

The slim redhead that follows him garners more attention than he, though admittedly that could come from her clothing and the fact that it’s clearly Tony’s spares.

He's short for an Aesir, she's tall for a Vanir. Not a great combination to be honest.

When he approaches the gate to his house, he has to pause and take in a deep breath. The quality of the build is too good for it to have truly aged over the hundred years since he’d laid eyes on it but there are other markings of the passage of time. The plants are different. There is a root from the large tree that has surfaced and disturbed the path to the door. One of the windows looks like it’s been replaced at some point.

“Is this it?” Pepper asks, eyeing it.

“Yes,” he says wetly, unable to bring himself to take his eyes off the building.

She stays quiet for several moments as he stands with one hand on the gate, just staring. “Are we going in?” she finally asks.

He nods and opens the gate.

He doesn’t notice someone coming up the path until the sound of metal hitting stone and a surprised _Howardson!_ reverberates through the air. Both he and Pepper reach for swords and daggers they aren’t carrying but by the time they turn around the woman is kneeling and gathering a basket of gardening supplies. She keeps peeking at him.

That answers the question for whether the Allfather wiped him completely from the memory of Asgard or not.

“Hello there, darling,” he greets more smoothly than he feels. Pepper scoffs next to him but he ignores her. He waits for her to speak but she just stares at him. He leans forward, offering a hand to help her to her feet, “Is-”

She lets off a shriek and scrambles back the way she came.

He and Pepper can only watch her run away, chasing her would be pointless and would only frighten her further.

“Well, I can certainly see why people say you’re great with the ladies,” Pepper remarks.

He huffs a laugh, "I admit the screaming is an unusual reaction but maybe flirting has changed in the last hundred years or so."

"I doubt it. Can we go inside now? I need a bath and clothes that fit."

Tony can only bring himself to grunt.

The outside of the house has been well kept but the door sticks when he tries to open it. He throws his body weight against it a couple of times before it gives suddenly and he staggers in, catching himself on the door handle.

Dustmotes float in the air.

The whole place is covered with a layer of dust.

Tony frowns and goes to one of the walls, tapping a bit until something finally kicks in and the power comes on.

"There we go," he mutters.

"Shower, Tony."

"That way," he waves a hand. "It doesn't look like anyone's been here since I was sent off so there's probably soap. It's probably old though."

"I don't _care_. I'd use kitchen soap if it meant being clean at this point."

"I'll find us fresh clothes," he tells her.

"Clothes that _fit_ ," she says, but he knows it's more ‘hopeful request’ than actual expectation.

"You're about _this much_ too tall for that, Pep," he holds his fingers a few inches apart then widens them. And widens them. Then adds his other hand and pulls them apart until his arms are stretched as far as they'll go.

Pepper reaches out and pushes his hands back to a much more reasonable three inches, "This is the height difference I need clothes for, Tony."

He hums in mock contemplation, "Oh, well. That's likely much easier to manage."

Pepper rolls her eyes and heads into the bathroom.

Tony looks around the dust covered house trying to see if anything has changed, if anything has moved. He's pretty sure he'd left dishes in the sink that morning all those years ago, he has a bad habit of doing that. So Obie must have had someone clean the house at least once.

That could explain why the sketches and notes he always leaves all over his bedroom are missing. Obie wouldn't want to risk something like that falling into someone else's hands. Norns, Tony can barely remember what he was working on back then.

Tony hears the front door slam open and leans backward to look down the hallway.

Obie stands in the doorway, not quite panting but definitely looking like he rushed here. Tony feels himself relax.

"Obie," he breathes.

"Tony. You're... alive," Obie says almost disbelievingly. He steps into the house and shuts the door behind him. "It's been so long since the Jotunar declared war... When you didn't come home we didn't think you made it out alive."

"Gonna have to correct that then," Tony laughs.

"Yes. Yes, I suppose we will," Obie says slowly, thoughtfully, no doubt considering all the things he’ll have to do to make sure everyone knows Tony is still alive. (Obie's too good for him, Tony thinks sometimes, handling all the boring bits that keep his life running smoothly when he screws it up and doing it all without complaint). Suddenly Obie's expression clears and he reaches out to grab Tony's shoulders, "Come here. Let me get a good look at you, my boy."

Tony can't help the tired, goofy smile on his face.

Five years since the start of the war but he finally got them back here.

 

 

* * *

When the Bifrost comes down, Hela frowns. Her food has come, regular as clockwork, since Tony was forced to leave her but those making the deliveries have been... unpleasant. She will deal with her supplies once the unpleasantness leaves.

It occurs to her that this one seems early but it is difficult to track time sometimes in Helheim and so she assumes (though she will never admit it) that she has merely miscounted the days.

At least, until the spirit that had housed itself within the crystalline leaf pendant she had sent to Tony a decade or so ago appears at her side chattering incessantly. It breathes its news to her so quickly, whispering excitedly in her ear, that it almost takes her too long to understand what it is trying to tell her.

Tony is in Helheim.

Hela rises to her feet quickly (she is royalty, a queen, she would never be so inelegant as to _shoot_ to her feet) and marches towards the Bifrost site.

He's on the other side of the door already though. He looks tired and world-worn.

"Hela," Tony says.

Hearing her name is a rare treat these days. So few remember it. Even rarer still is the way he throws himself at her in a hug.

"You haven't aged a day," he mutters inter her shoulder.

"And you have aged far too much," she tells him.

"Can I stay here for a while?" he asks quietly.

"You are prince of this realm. Of course you may," she tells him.

It is telling how tired he must be that he doesn't question the title yet. He will later, she knows but she doubts it will be little more than a token protest.

He will be just as eager to claim her as sister as she is to claim him as brother.

Hela is sure of it.

 

 

* * *

"With the Norns as witness, I, Queen Hela Odinsdottir of Helheim, claim Anthony Howardson as brother. As Queen of Helheim, I name him prince of this realm." Blood drips on her throne. "By my blood, I swear it."

"With the Norns as witness, I, Prince Anthony Howardson of Helheim, claim Hela Odinsdottir as sister." Blood drips on her throne. "By my blood, I swear it."

A pause. A smile.

"Brother."

"Sister."

A laugh. "Princeling."

A snort. "Queeny."

They are family.

 

 

* * *

_ 965 AD _

The war ends, the Allfather loses an eye, and Asgard gains a second prince.

Tony is bringing his goods from his forge in Helheim to Pepper and picking up their food supplies for the month when the Allmother walks up the path. He's surprised to see she wears the one sided breastplate he'd made for her all those years ago as she cradles a dark haired babe against the soft, unarmored side of her chest.

"Anthony Howardson," she greets from a respectful distance. Tony's eyes flick to the doorway where an honor guard have escorted their queen with their vulnerable new prince.

"Allmother," Tony replies. He straightens, crossing an arm over his chest and offers a small bow.  Admittedly, the bow is not as deep as it should be but if anyone calls him on it, he'll blame it on his time spent on Jotunheim. People will coo and blather on about monsters and their terrible manners and completely forget that Tony had been there, _making friends_ , for over a century before war had been declared.

Tony is very good at making friends, more than a few people owe their lives to that fact.

"You dishonor my son by not giving him the same gift you sent when his brother was born," she says coldly.

Tony barely keep his eyebrows from climbing into his hairline. "I would have sent a custom piece before if there had been warning of an upcoming birth."

The Allmother's eyes narrow and Pepper hisses _Tony!_

"Forgive me," he says with smooth smile. "I only meant that I no longer reside in Asgard full time. Gossip is slower to reach me these days, I'm afraid."

"I would have one of your mobiles for my son," she tells him regally. He almost snorts. Yeah, he can see where Hela gets it.

Tony steps forward and she holds the babe out to him, both proud mother and assuming he will need some reading of the boy to create the type of work she wants.

"Careful, kid," Tony croons as he traces the back of his finger down the boy's chubby cheek. The child is far too young to understand anything more than his tone... No, Tony's words are for the mother of _three_ , not _two_ , "Your family has a way of casting children off once they're no longer useful."

Unsurprising, she jerks her child back from him, clutching the boy to her chest and cradling the back of his head.

"How _dare_ you," she hisses with outrage.

(Tony can definitely see Hela in her.)

"No," he says, leaning forward. "How dare _you._ You know I am close to your daughter, whom you are so quick to forget. Yet still you have the gall to come into my home and claim fealty from me? I don't think so."

"Tony, stop," Pepper orders quietly.

"You know nothing of our family business. The Allfather must make terrible sacrifices for the good of the Nine."

"Sacrifices, right. That's why he sent me off to Jotunheim expecting me to die. But I didn't die, did I? Bet that threw a wrench in his plans," Tony's tone is cutting. He glances out the doorway to where the honor guard stands at the door. She's paying attention now, her head is turned towards them and her hand is on her sword, but she makes no move into the house yet.

"You are young," the Allmother replies regally, lifting her chin like she is granting some great favor. "You give too much credit to conspiracy theories, Howardson."

"They aren't conspiracy theories when you lived them," Tony snarls. The anger disturbs the babe though and he eases himself back with a sniff. "Still, I'm not one to lay the sins of the parents at a child's feet. I sent a breastplate for yourself and mobile for Prince Loki in celebration of his _birth_ by courier once I arrived about an hour ago. It's probably at the palace by now."

Tony can't help the slight emphasis he puts on the word _birth_. That child is too old to be a newborn.

He can't help the thread of vindication that flows through him at the tightness that appears around the Allmother's eyes. Though he has to admit, she does appear genuine enough in her defense of the child. Perhaps he will do well under her care in the House of Odin.

It's not Tony's business.

Having given her what she wanted, he turns back to his boxes to unpack.

Tony is surprised by a gentle hand on his wrist. He looks up to see her expression has gentle. Soothed because she got what she wanted or because the perceived insult to the second prince was a misunderstanding? No way to know really; he doesn't know her well enough to tell.

"This anger will do you no good, Howardson. It will poison you. The Jotunar did not slaughter all of our people the moment they declared war. They slowly trickled back to Asgard after war was declared, much as you did."

"Yeah, how about that? It's almost like someone spent a century on Jotunheim befriending them," Tony says thoughtfully. He gives a thoughtful sniff and says, "I wonder who that could be?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Just to clarify the actual timeline a bit for you guys.**  
>  637 AD - Rumors and grumblings of a war with the Jotunar  
> +120 (2) years  
> 757 AD - War declared  
> +5 years  
> 762 AD - Tony and Pepper make it back from Jotunheim  
> +208 (3.5) years  
> 965 AD - Last ditch effort to win, Jotunheim invades Midgard and faces a brutal defeat; Loki is found and taken to Asgard
> 
> **One last thing thing to note:**  
>  The claim of kinship doesn't like... transfer. Tony is **not** now brothers with Thor and Loki as well through Hela.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Don't give eight year olds daggers.   
> ...Tony, I'm looking at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by SuccubusKayko, Silver Drip, and Dayzor.   
> Extra thanks to dayzor for letting me know what age of child I was writing. 
> 
> Notes:
> 
>   * The year is 1484 AD
>   * Loki is 519 (8) years old
>   * Tony is 2047 (34)
>   * Hela is 2467 (41)
>   * Thor is 966 (16)
> 

> 
> Some of you seemed pretty worried about Frigga coming off as.... hmm... rude in the last chapter. 
> 
> Tony's entire conversation starts off with Frigga on a bad foot because she has perceived an insult to Loki from him (he had sent a greater and better gift for Thor's birth than Loki's) and she's being a little oversensitive about ensuring Thor and Loki are seen as equal right now because _she_ is aware that Loki is not hers by birth even if the rest of Asgard is not. She comes across as rude and entitled because she's a queen that thinks she's been greatly insulted.
> 
> Of course, Tony makes the whole thing worse by being intentionally cutting and a bit rude himself. (Because Hela, because he believes he was sent off to die).
> 
> But if you had trouble with her attitude, try reading her as more of a mama bear defending the honor of a new cub. She comes across as less awful. (Unfortunately, Tony isn't a mind reader and doesn't know a lot of this.)

Tony is in the forge adjoining his house sorting through the commission requests. He has a pile of  _ Accept, Reject _ ,  _ Put Off _ , and  _ Need More Information _ . The Reject and Put Off piles are starting to get larger than he would like. He might have to tell Pepper to close commissions for the month.

"So you are the mysterious Merchant of Helheim," an unfamiliar voice says.

Surprised, Tony looks at the door where a boy stands. 

"That was locked," Tony says, pointing at the boy. 

"Was it?" he blinks at him innocently. Tony narrows his eyes. He knows that too innocent look; he  _ invented _ that too innocent look.

"Yes," Tony says but looking closer he can see the way the boy, though  _ trying  _ to smooth his breathing, is panting slightly. He stands in far enough that he's not easily spotted from the pathway and keeps trying to subtly check over his shoulder. Tony huffs a laugh, "If you're going to use me to hide from your parents, you'd best shut the door."

The boy's green eyes brighten with surprise but he doesn't waste a moment, stepping in and shutting the door behind him. He moves to crouch by one of the windows, peeking around the sill but careful to keep himself out of sight. 

"It's already set to one-way," Tony tells him. “They can’t see you, kid.” 

"Where's the fun in that?" the kid continues to hide. 

"I'm Tony."

"Loki."

"Ah," Tony says. "Named for the prince, I take it?"

Something in that catches the boy’s, Loki's, attention. His gaze is sharp when it turns to Tony.

"Interesting," Loki says. " _ The _ prince, not  _ our _ prince. Do you not consider yourself of Asgard?"

"As you so rightly pointed out," Tony gives a witty smile, "I  _ am  _ the Merchant of Helheim."

The boy turns to him, interest lost in watching the path.

“Do you really kidnap naughty children and feed them to the wolf chained in front of the queen of Hel’s palace?” he asks. 

Tony’s entire face scrunches as he tries to parse that. Any of that. 

"What," he says, bewildered. Then, because it bares repeating, " _ What? _ "

"My tutor, Valka, says the Merchant of Helheim takes naughty children to feed to the queen of Hel's guardian wolf," the boy says with the eagerness and fascination of all children reciting a gruesome story. He frowns, suddenly thoughtful, "But she  _ also _ says you've been doing it since the end of the war with those Jotnar monsters and you don't look old enough too have been taking children that long."

"And how old do you think I am?" Tony asks, amused.

The boy marches up to him and clambers onto the spare chair. His little face scrunches in concentration as he carefully studies Tony's face before declaring, "One thousand."

Tony pretends to cough to hide his laugh. "Kid, I don't even look a thousand anymore. Try doubling that."

The boy's face goes from thoughtful scrunching to offended scrunching. "That's so _ old _ ."

Tony snorts, "Thanks."

The scrutinizing look is back. 

"I don't believe you," Loki declares regally. "The old people in stories are always married. You're not married."

"What makes you think so?"

"You're covered in sweat. A wife would never let you be gross. Mother always makes Father wash after he brings us in from training.  _ He _ says a bit of sweat is good for the soul but  _ she _ says 'That's all well and good but your body still gets itchy when you don't bathe and who has to put up with three stinky, smelly, itchy boys then?'" The boy pauses, then adds, clearly for Tony's benefit, "The correct answer is 'her'."

Tony opens his mouth before he reconsiders. There is no beating kid logic. Tony is not married, because if he were his partner would make him bathe immediately after becoming sweaty. Clearly, Tony has misunderstood the bonds of matrimony his entire life.

"Training, huh?" Tony says instead. "I know a bit about weapons. Which one do you favor?"

He expects the child to brighten with excitement, as they tend to at that age. To tell him of his favorite weapon and how he has bested his siblings or classmates in sparring. 

Instead the boy's face falls and his shoulders slump. 

"Daggers," he replies, looking at his feet. “But my brother says daggers are a woman’s weapon.”

Well. Tony can’t have that. Based on what he’d seen of this kid, there’s really only one way to convince him otherwise. He smirks a bit as he flicks one of his own daggers out of his sleeve and into his hand. 

The boy’s head shoots up at the  _ thud _ of it sinking into the wall across the room and Tony feels a bit of satisfaction at the awe in his face as his eyes trace the dagger’s path back to where Tony’s arm is still held out. 

“Woman’s weapon, huh?” Tony smirks. He twists his wrist  _ just so _ and the dagger disappears from the wall and is back in his hand in an instant. He kneels in front of the boy and holds the dagger out to him by the hilt until the he takes it. “I know some women who are pretty formidable warriors. The queen of Hel herself taught me how to use these."

He summons the other dagger with a twist of his wrist and taps it against the one in the boys hand. The kid's mouth falls open a bit. 

"How do you  _ do _ that?" he asks, wide eyed and mimicking the action with the dagger in his hand. 

Tony rises to his feet and offers the dagger's twin from his hand, "Guess you better figure that out."

Pepper comes in then. 

The kid is smart enough to hide the daggers behind his back at least, even if he's not remotely subtle about it. 

She sees the boy. Sees Tony. Her eyes flick between them skeptically before they connect with Tony's. 

"You," she says archly upon seeing Tony, "need a shower."

The boy gasps. 

"You  _ are _ old!"

* * *

Pepper leans on the door jamb watching Tony pack supplies for the next month. 

"Who was the boy?" she asks. 

Tony gives a distracted hum. "Some kid that wandered in. His brother said daggers are a woman's weapon."

"Don't tell Hela someone said that," Pepper clicks her tongue. "I assume you corrected that ridiculous notion."

"Yeah. And gave him a set of daggers to practice with."

"Tony..." Pepper sighed. Tony doesn't answer her. He doesn't answer her  _ very loudly _ . "Tony!"

Suddenly he's a rush of action, "I had to, Pep! You didn't see his little face!"

"I saw his  _ little face  _ plenty when he called you an  _ old man _ , Tony! He couldn't have been more than six centuries!"

Tony makes an  _ Eehhh  _ face and wiggles his hand back and forth in the air. 

"Actually, he said he was named after the prince so he's probably closer to five." Pepper shoots him a deadly look so he quickly tacks on, "But that's not the point you were trying to make and I acknowledge that. His brother is getting the idea that daggers are for women from somewhere. It's just good business to keep that kind of thought pattern from propagating to the youth of tomorrow. For the sake of the children, Pepper. For the sake of the  _ children _ ."

" _ For the sake of the children _ , they're given blunted weapons so they can't hurt themselves or each other accidentally," she hisses, stepping forward to poke him in the chest. She releases a groan from deep in her chest. "You don't even know who he was so we can find his parents and tell them he has it to trade it out for blunted ones."

"He was more interested in the summoning anyway," Tony sulks. 

"That is so not the point, Tony. He's a child and-" she cuts herself off. " _ Daggers! _ You need to go back to Helheim tonight."

"What? No, I-"

"Now. You're going now," she grabs the commission specifications from the table and shoves them in his chest. "That was an incredibly stupid thing to do, Tony. It'll be easier to do damage control without you here to actually damage. Whatever happens will die down quicker."

"I don't see why," Tony says honestly. 

By 500 he was already making daggers in his father's forge.

"I know," she says sadly. "I know you don't. But you should still go back to Helheim tonight. If you gave away your daggers you'll need to make yourself more anyway."

Ridiculous. It's not like those were the only two daggers Tony has on him but its Pepper so he says, "Okay."

His house and forge are dark when the boy returns the next day, eager to show off his newfound ability to summon daggers to his hand. Offended and hurt, in the way of a child who has discovered far too often that the world does not revolve around them, Loki storms home and vows he will not return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was an unexpected stop off. I tried to write Loki and Tony meeting and instead we got child Loki but it was so cute I had to keep it. Next chapter, guys. I've got it planned. 
> 
> Also.... just to head off any worried comments, Tony and Pepper and not married. That is just Child LogicTM.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started off as _such_ a perfectly normal day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by SuccubusKayko, dayzor, and silver drip.  
> This chapter covers multiple years but by the end:
> 
>   * The year is 1965
>   * Tony is 2528 (42)
>   * Loki is 1000 (16)
>   * Hela is 2948 (49)
>   * Thor is 1447 (24)
>   * Random aside that has absolutely no bearing on the story.... but our beloved RDJ has just been born
> 


_ 1485 AD _

Pepper is sorting through the boxed commissions Tony had just dropped off when she hears a tiny scratching noise from the window. Her eyes slip towards the noise but she keeps her hands steady.

A tiny field mouse has climbed up and sits on the sill, watching her. Or, at least, he certainly wants her to think he’s a field mouse anyway. Young shapeshifters are always easy to spot for one with experience.

The mouse blinks and starts cleaning his head with his little paws. Pepper has to fight a smile but she doesn’t want to risk saying anything that might frighten him off.

* * *

  


Pepper mostly uses Tony’s house and forge in Asgard as storage for the completed commissions so she has a tendency to come and go, though somewhat irregularly. Because of her variable schedule, it takes her several weeks to notice that the little mouse continues to return almost every day around the same time.

She puts a bit of grain down on the sill and the little field mouse lets her scratch the top if his head as he grabs one of the grains.

"We shapeshifters have to stick together," she tells him.

The mouse squeaks and nibbles on his grain, content with the attention she's giving him.

Yes, Pepper knows, it's best she keeps this one close.

 It's dangerous to be what they are in Asgard.

* * *

  


_ 1648 AD _

The eyesight of a snake is strange. Mother says one day he'll be able to have better control over his shape and will be able to choose whether he wants to keep his Asgardian eyesight or this strange heat-vision that snakes apparently have but that for now he should be impressed he can transform at all. Mother says shapeshifting is a _Very Advanced Skill_.

Mother _also_ says he shouldn't practice without supervision but Loki is almost 700 years old and Mother clearly doesn't know what she's talking about.

He isn't a _baby_. He doesn't need _supervision_. Loki is going to be one of the best seidrman in the Nine one day and to do that he's going to have to take some risks.

Risks like practicing his shapeshifting outside (he's smiling to himself wide in his head even though he doesn't, currently, have lips; such a strange sensation!)

He can't wait to show the Lady Pepper. He might even give her a bit of a fright and that would certainly be worth having waited to perfect this form before showing it to her.

(One day, he'll show her a form and she wont recognize it’s him immediately. He just doesn't know how she does it!)

The Merchant is in the house when he gets there, though. Unusual. Off schedule.

If Loki could frown in this snake form, he would. The Lady Pepper is _his_ friend. The Merchant has no right to take her when he just sweeps in once a month then galivants off to the land of the _dead_.

Who would prefer the land of the dead to Lady Pepper?

"...for him and you know he prefers I do that here after the last time I came up with something that required tools no one on Asgard has access to."

"Why didn't I hear anything about it, Tony?"

"I don't know, Pepper. I assumed you had."

Loki doesn't like the tone the Merchant is taking with Lady Pepper. It’s sharp and harsh and annoyed and mean and no one should take that tone with anyone ever. In the stories, this is when a brave warrior would swoop in and save her from the monster. Although the stories also involve a lot of bashing, hitting, and blood. It seems rather unnecessary if he can just warn the villainous brute off the perfect Lady Pepper.

Loki slithers forward, curling around Lady Pepper's ankle to get her attention until she leans down and offers him her wrist. Gratefully, he climbs up her arm to coil himself around her neck like a necklace. This body has trouble regulating its own temperature and this position is much more pleasant. She is nice and cool against the hot temperature of the forge-warmed room.

Another cruelty of the Merchant.

Loki hisses at him to show his displeasure.

"Who's this?" the Merchant asks.

"A little field mouse who has grown some fangs," Lady Pepper replies and brings a finger up to rub the top of his head like she always did in his mouse shape. Loki thinks her tone is proud. It makes something bubble in his stomach and he has to hide his face.

The _scritch scritch_ and _pet pet_ are pleasant enough he tunes out the conversation. Hearing but not listening.

"Is he...?"

"Like me? Yes."

"Do you know who he is? Who he _was_?"

"No. Three years and I've only seen him in animal shapes."

"Maybe he's just been living in animal shapes," the Merchant's voice is surprisingly soft and gentle. Loki feels another finger, this one wider and warmer than Lady Pepper's rub the top of his head. He blinks eyes he didn't realize he'd closed open and tries to glare but he doesn't think his snake's eyes are very good for it because the rubbing continues.

He rushes forward to bite the finger. Unfortunately,  despite Lady Pepper's dramatic statement earlier, garden snakes do not actually have fangs so all he can do is latch on and gum at the finger ineffectively.

"He's got spirit," the Merchant huffs in amusement.

"Of course he does. We are known for our large spirits and big personalities," Pepper replies with a smirk in her voice.

The Merchant laughs.

Loki doesn't get the joke, so he tries to gum even harder at the callused finger in his mouth in revenge. It's still ineffective but it makes him feel better.

* * *

  


_ 1965 AD _

It started off as _such_ a perfectly normal day.

Then the shop door had opened and Loki had stepped in, spread his arms wide, and stated loudly for everyone to hear, "I am burdened with glorious purpose!"

The few patrons browsing had paused to stare at him but, used to his dramatic ways, had quickly gone back to their shopping.

Pepper was in the middle of delivering a commission and so, despite the way she pursed her lips to hold back an amused smile and a laugh, turned her attention back to Friðbjorn.

"Your boy is here," he murmurs quietly.

"Don't let him hear you call him that," she warns, adding with mock seriousness, "He joined his first hunting party last summer. He is a _young man_ now."

"Ah. Of course, of course," he agrees in the knowing tone of a man who has raised three boys to manhood himself. "Well, let's see if we can finish this quickly so you can help the _young man_ with his _glorious purpose._ "

She glances over to Loki who is still standing with his arms spread, though they and his expression are drooping a bit at the lack of attention he's receiving. He sees her looking and rushes over to interrupt her. Despite having been told not to _multiple times_ if she's already with a customer. Ah well, the excitement of children.

"Pepper!" he greets as he approaches them. He's been refusing to to use affectionate names since he attended his first hunt. She misses the days when he affectionately called out _Firebird_ to her, but ever since his first hunt he'd refused to call her anything but her name. He's a _young man_ now.

"Loki," she greets.

"I am-"

"Burdened with glorious purpose? Yes, I heard." She has trouble keeping the laugh out of her voice but he soaks up the attention anyway. "You need to wait until I've finished with this customer."

He blinks, recoiling slightly as if she's struck him. Pepper holds back a sigh, knowing what's coming but having no way to head it off. Adolescents are the same across the Nine, no matter where they are raised or who raises them it seems.

"It’s fine, Pepper. The young man is clearly here on important business," Friðbjorn says. Loki's face clears and fills with pride at one of the _actual warriors_ calling him both a young man and his business important enough to override what they are already doing. Loki's smile is bright and all his attention on Pepper, so he doesn't see the wink Friðbjorn sends her when she sends him a grateful smile.

"Thank you, Friðbjorn. You can take the sword with you tonight, we can deal with payment later. I know you needed it tonight."

"No need. No need," he says depositing a bag of coins on the counter. "I'm sure it will be excellent. It's never anything less."

He drops a heavy hand on the _young man's_ shoulder and Loki turns bright eyes and an even brighter smile on him.

"Now, we all expect you to keep watching out for her, son," Friðbjorn says. “We all quite enjoyed hearing about the porcupine incident.”

Loki's face turns baffled and he looks to Pepper who clicks her tongue.

"Get out, Friðbjorn," she says.

He laughs as he leaves.

“I never turned into a porcupine,” Loki tells her, but she hears the question behind it.

“Ah, well,” she sighs. “Men are worse gossips than old women. They hear about one incident of you _defending my honor_ and suddenly all of them have their own story of the time they saw you do it. Each one more ridiculous than the last.”

Pepper waits for the door to shut behind him before turning her attention to Loki.

"Now, I hear there is a glorious purpose to be dealt with," she prompts.

"Yes, I require the services of the Merchant of Helheim," he announces to her grandly. "I need a gift for Mother's birthday. The _best_ gift."

_Better than Thor's_ , is implied loudly. She wonders if that's what is sparking this sudden urgency.

Pepper waves her hands indicating what is on display in the shop, "This is what we have."

"No. It must be custom," he insists. "You know him personally, you can get him to let me jump the line."

"The queen's birthday is two weeks away. He does not return for another three and a half. If you wanted to try to commission him, you should have come last week. Not to mention..." Pepper pauses to give him a significant look. "Last time you met him you turned into a ram and tried to headbutt him in the stomach. What makes you think he will accept a commission, let alone give you special treatment and allow you to jump the line, after behavior like that?"

"He deserved it," Loki sulks.

"He kissed me on the cheek," she replies.

Loki sulks harder.

Of course, Tony had thought it was hilarious afterward (and it had been fairly funny remembering his squawk as he dodged a charging ram once she knew he wasn't hurt). It's a terrible idea to let Loki know that, though. She doesn't want to encourage random animal attacks as a way of dealing with his feelings. Particularly with the sort of feelings overload everyone goes through at his age.

"Fine! I'll apologize! I just... I _need_ a better gift than... Than what I got her already. Please, Firebird."

It breaks Pepper's heart that she really has no way to contact Tony. She brings her hand up to scratch it through Loki's hair like she always does in his animal forms.

She sighs. She can't not try.

"I really have no way to contact him from here but!" she holds a finger up to forestall the protests he already opened his mouth for. "I will see if I will be allowed into Helheim."

"Thank you!" he cries, launching himself at her in a hug.

"I can make no promise I will even be allowed to go to Helheim, let alone that Tony will listen to me," she warns gently.

"But you'll _try_."

Oh yes. Going to Hel and back is the least of what she'd do for her little field mouse.

Tony will come, if she asks. The biggest obstacle is whether the Watcher will let her through the gate.

He does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loki calls Pepper Firebird because the first time he asked her to demonstrate her shapeshifting abilities he was still young. She didn't want to frighten him with a big scary predator animal so she turned into a cardinal (bright red bird that only eats berries and seeds). The red isn't actually the color of fire, but he was still a child and Child Logic wins every argument.
> 
> Also, just to clarify, in the one scene where Loki calls Tony's tone "sharp and harsh and annoyed and mean"... Tony's tone isn't actually that bad. He's a bit annoyed but so is Pepper and their tones reflect that. Unfortunately, Loki is a child and he's associating the annoyed tone with far worse feelings of anger.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's a thousand. Sulking or angry is pretty much his default state."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by silver drip and dayzor

The boy Pepper brings Tony to somehow manages to be both hopeful and sulking at the same time. It gives him a baleful, kicked puppy look that Tony isn't entirely sure he hasn't affected on purpose.

"Now if I'm going to agree to help you, you're going to have to agree to no more animal attacks on my person," he waves his hands down his chest, indicating said wonderous person. "I would prefer _not_ having my eyes pecked out because you think I looked at Pepper wrong."

"I didn't do _that_ one _either_ ," the kid sulks and crosses his arms, staring off to the side.

Tony doesn't know what the _either_ of that statement is. Presumably an earlier conservation he wasn't here for. He glances at Pepper but she just shakes her head with an amused smile. Not important then. Moving on.

"Regardless!" Tony declares loudly and dramatically to bring the kids attention back to the conversation at hand and not all the things he _didn't do_. "Do you agree there will be no more animal attacks on me, the wonderful generous person who is not only coming back to Asgard off schedule but letting you jump the commission line? I think that's a fair trade. Yeah. It's a fair trade. You should agree now."

"What if you deserve it?"

"Kid," Tony tells him seriously, leaning his weight on the table to drive home his point. "Pepper and I were travelling the frozen wastes of Jotunheim a century before you were even born. If we have a problem with each other, we know how to sort it out ourselves."

The boy squints at him, studying his face.

"Liar!" he suddenly declares. Tony arches an eyebrow. "You even don't look like you're as old as my brother and he's _four centuries_ older than me. If you were wandering Jotunheim before I was born you would have been a _baby_!"

"I'm older than I look," Tony says tiredly.

This phrase has become more and more common in his conversations as the years go by. He'd added a goatee centuries ago but facial hair only goes so far when you look 1500 but are actually over 2500. There comes a point where _I age well_ stops explaining things.

The kid still looks like he’s going to protest so Tony waves a hand dismissively, "My age isn't the point. Anthony Howardson, son of Howard Starkson and Maria Carbonelsdottir. Look me up in the birth archives if you have to. I just want to make sure I'm not going to end up swarmed by geese. Don't look at me like that. Have you met a goose? Vicious creatures. Worse than swans."

"Tony," Pepper's tone is both amused and warning. Tony smirks, that means she's only warning because she thinks she should.

The speedy prattling is doing its job though. The kids defensive posture is relaxing and his eyes shine with a kind of morbid curiosity.

"Deal?" Tony says again. The boy still hesitates. "You won't get better from me."

"Deal."

The kid holds out his hand slowly. He mostly manages to suppress the disgusted downturn at the corners of his mouth, but he's young and Tony's been making deals longer than he's been alive. Tony takes the kid's hand _without_ spitting in it.

"Spit to seal the deal was going out of style when I was a kid. Anyone who tries you make you do it is either hazing you or living in the past. Do you think I, as the God of _Innovation_ would be stuck somewhere so boring as the _past_? Pffft."

Tony gives the kids hand a firm shake then drops it.

"Now let's get to work."

Tony claps his hands and runs them together.

* * *

  


After the boy leaves, precious bracelet in a carved box, Tony turns to Pepper and declares, "By the Norns I am never doing you a favor again."

She snorts. "He can’t have been that bad."

"He _sulked_ ," Tony tells her as he grabs a bottle of mead from the pantry. "The _entire_ time."

"He's a thousand. Sulking or angry is pretty much his default state," Pepper huffs a laugh, taking the smaller mug of the sweet mead he keeps on hand for her.

Tony takes a seat across from her at the table and stares into his own mug. His hand comes up to rub his jaw thoughtfully before he suddenly gives a sideways sniff.

"He called Jotunheim a useless realm full of monsters," he tells her grimly, still staring until the amber liquid like it contains some sort of answer. Like he _can't_ look at her when he says it.

"How did _that_ come up?" she asks incredulously.

"The gift he settled on for Mother-Dearest was a bracelet with Yggdrasil on it. Stones for each of the nine realms that he could enchant. He wanted to make Jotunheim a prank."

"Oh," she says sadly. "I thought I'd managed to teach him better than that."

Tony grunts. "I convinced him the elves of Alfheim would appreciate the humor of a prank far better anyway. But..."

"But it doesn't fix the original opinion," she finishes.

"No," he agrees.

She takes a long draw from her mug and uses it to buy time to think.

"I should tell him," she finally declares. Decides. She sounds more confident than she feels. If he harbors that much hate towards the Jotnar, what good could possibly come from telling him he is one?

"I've barely met him a handful of times and most of those have involved some kind of me dodging on my part. That's going to have to be your call, Pep." He pauses, scratches the back of his head, then awkwardly offers, "I have my cold forge in Helheim."

To make clan trinkets.

In case they can't identify his bloodline and she wants to claim him as a matriarch in the way of the Jotnar.

He _has_ a family though, Asgardian as they may be.

Pepper has no right to him.

"There are still those around who could know what those trinkets mean, don't be ridiculous, Tony," she dismisses. But she knows its weaker than she wants it to be.

"It would give him protection if he ever wound up there," Tony pushes. "Your clan carries weight."

"My clan _did_ carry weight," she replies with a click of her tongue. "Who knows if it still does after the way I left and centuries with no word."

"You were grieving."

" _Everyone_ was grieving."

"All the more reason they'll understand, then."

She huffs and looks away.

But she doesn't dismiss the idea.

Either of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so, we have one, maybe two, chapters left before Loki's aged up. It took me a lot longer to get there than I expected but I think the side trips were worth it. 
> 
> We also had some big reveals in this chapter, raise your hand if you saw them coming.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who do we fight tonight?" Bera asks as she steps out of her house.
> 
> Pepper's grin is sharp and deadly. "Whoever dares to disagree with us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by SuccubusKayko, dayzor, and silver drip

It is unspoken between Pepper and Loki that he is, in fact, _Prince Loki Odinson._ He speaks of his family as any other boy his age would and, since Pepper has never actually interacted with any of them directly, the fact that _Mother_ and _Father_ are actually the _Allmother_ and _Allfather_ has always been easy to ignore and forget.

The Queen's birthday goes off without a hitch, celebrated throughout all of Asgard.

From one of her sons, she receives an exotic pelt. A creature known to be nigh impossible to kill, whose fur is soft and holds beneficial enchantments like none other but which harmful spells slide off like water off duck's feathers. Truly, an impressive gift the warriors tell each other.

From the other son, a bracelet.

Pepper listens for any praises but other than a few compliments from other mages and smiths at the skill of the piece, more focus is given to the first gift.

Well. Pepper cannot let that stand.

She pounds on her neighbor's door and when Bera answers says, "We're going to the tavern. Bring your sword and shield."

It is a testament to their friendship that, though Bera gives her a baffled look, she reaches for them behind the adjoining wall and places them on her back.

"Who do we fight tonight?" she asks as she steps out of her house.

Pepper's grin is sharp and deadly. "Whoever dares to disagree with us."

If the people of Asgard will not remember the efforts of their second prince, she will _remind_ them.

* * *

  


From her second son, she receives a bracelet. Two toned gold on gold inlay of Yggdrasil. Nine stones for the nine realms, each hold an enchantment he placed himself (so skilled, so skilled!) and more than two dozen leaf-shaped emeralds act as a storage (such foresight!).  

The piece is clearly the work of the Merchant, how did one so young manage to convince him to make a jewelry piece? The Merchant is a weapon and armorsmith who happens to also be a master goldsmith. Even so, he never makes jewelry! Certainly not on commission.

What connections Loki of Asgard must have!

* * *

  


Pepper goes to a small locked trunk she keeps under her bed. She traces her fingers over the carved wood, searching out the... There.

She presses _just so_ , then slides that piece. Pulls this piece _but not too far_. Then, finally, turns the whole thing over and opens it from the bottom.

A twin set of daggers sit on top, wrapped in leather, but she knows too well what they look like. Silver and cold forged with shimmering purple grips. Carefully, she takes them and sets them aside.

They are not what she's looking for.

There are several other trinkets and baubles, unimportant to any but her, that she sets aside as well. Until finally, there at the bottom of the chest where she is unlikely to come across it accidentally, a small box.

Deceptively plain for its importance to her.

Carefully, she thumbs it open and blinks back the pain of seeing the ring her mother had once passed to her sitting inside. Tony offered her his cold forge, but she still has this one single clan trinket left of her own. Recognizable to the people who would matter should her little field mouse be in danger.

This will mean more than a fresh-forged one.

Pepper closes the box and sets it aside. Replaces the baubles and trinkets, the twin daggers. She clicks the bottom in place. She pushes, slides, and clicks the box to lock. She puts it back under her bed.

And then, with that done, she turns to the little box she kept out and puts it in a prominent place where Loki will no doubt snoop the moment he sees it the next time he visits.

* * *

  


Tony is humming to himself (and, yes, he'll admit it, wiggling a little dance a bit too) to the familiar _clang, clang, clang, tiptiptip_ of his hammer when a loud roar reverberates through the walls of the fortress. He rests his hammer next to the billet he's working on and listens again.

Curiosity gets the better of him but he doesn't feel an urgent need to rush. The gates to the fortress are kept sealed typically, only necessary for the larger food deliveries Tony arranges for them monthly. According to Hela, the ghostly residents are perfectly capable of going through the walls (Tony _will_ eventually find a way to see them, everything has failed so far but that doesn't mean there isn't a way) and there's a smaller door on the side big enough for just them to get through if they need to.

He's surprised to see Hela perched on top of the gate when he enters the courtyard. She doesn't have a sword in her hand but with her that doesn't mean much. Hela always has a sword even if you can't see it.

"Queeny?" he calls up. He _almost_ asks for a 'status report' because he knows how much the phrase annoys her. But this is a serious situation so... Serious Face. Oh, who's he kidding. "Gimme a status report, Queeny!"

That earns him a dark and scathing look promising painful retribution later but _Worth It_.

"It's your Jotun," she calls down.

"Pepper?"

"If that is what you feel like calling her. It certainly isn't her name."

"It's a nickname. A lovingly bestowed nickname," Tony argues and starts heading for the side door.

"She appears to be crying. You may wish to hurry," Hela advises.

"Why was that not the first thing you told me!" he shouts over his shoulder, picking up his pace.

"She arrived with a loud, pained roar. I assumed you would figure it out yourself," she answers smoothly. She lands next to him when he reaches the other side of the gate and mutters _just_ loud enough for him to hear, "More fool me."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm an emotionally ignorant knave," Tony concedes.

"You _are_ ," she agrees, all too pleased with herself.

The humor fades from both of them when they come to Pepper though. In form, she towers over him, even hunched in on herself as she is. The soft flowing hair is gone, replaced with the hard protective ridges of the Jotunar.

The ground around her is slowly freezing over. Hela stays well back from it but Tony has spent enough time amongst the Jotunar to have some protections in place against this.

"Hey there, Pepper Pot," he says gently, holding his hands in front of him. Tony can't help the shivering; he's dressed for his forge, not winter wonderland.

"Tony," Pepper gasps. Her voice, already deep and gravelly like this, is made worse by the brokenness that has her reaching out to cling to him. "Tony, he's _gone_."

"Who?" he asks but his stomach sinks. He knows without her answering.

  
" _Loki._ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: To be clear, Loki is alive.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki accidentally fakes his death for the first time in his life... Oops? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by SuccubusKayko, dayzor, and silver drip.
> 
> **Please Note:** There is a minor warning for this chapter. The way it's mentioned I don't think it will be an issue for anyone but I would rather be safe than sorry. I have placed the warning at the end of the chapter.

Tony manages to get Pepper settled in the larger bedroom they set up to accommodate her size once he gets the story out of her. Eventually, Pepper wears herself out and manages to fall into a restless sleep.

When Tony gets to the door, he finds Hela lurking in the hallway.

"They think he was trying to find the hidden paths," Tony explains as he shuts the door behind him quietly. "They found a book in his room and one of the guards found a tether. Best guess is he found one but Heimdall can't see where the other side spat him out. _Most likely_ it's just a matter of waiting for him to wander out of whatever anomaly is managing to block the Watcher’s Sight..."

"But there are very few things that can block the Watcher's Sight," Hela says for him.

"But there are very few things that can block the Watcher's Sight," Tony agrees grimly.

“She seems to know an awful lot about it considering a fair amount of that information wouldn’t be available to her, as a random citizen of Asgard. Even through the gossip mongers.”

"She only heard about it because the Allmother stopped by to see if he'd been by to see her. It hadn't even been long enough for Pepper to start worrying yet." Tony can’t help his bitter laugh when he tacks on, "Apparently, Mother-Dearest thought it was just a badly thought out prank. Or maybe she was just _hoping_ it was. Either way, Pepper isn't taking it well."

"No," Hela hums. "She wouldn't."

“Can you tell if he’s... _here_?” Tony asks, hesitantly.

“Here as in Helheim or here as in _dead_?”

Tony winces at her bluntness. “Dead, specifically, but I’ll take either-or.”

Hela hums thoughtfully and starts walking towards her throne room. “And what are the chances the Queen is waiting on the other side of the Bifrost for some kind of update?”

“On a scale of ‘ _Fat Chance_ ’ to ‘ _Pretty Damn Likely_ ’, I’m going to go with ‘ _Of Course She Fucking Is_ ’,” he snaps.

Hela’s only response is a warning glance.

Tony blows out a breath,  “Please?”

“He was rude to you,” she tells him with hardened eyes and an irritated tone. Puppy eyes are needed; initiate puppy eyes. Hela gives him a dirty look that says she knows exactly what he’s doing and is only letting him get away with it because he’s her adorable, beloved, little brother. “Fine. But I can only check Helheim. I have no insight into Valhalla.”

“Rumor has it the Allfather can see into Valhalla. If they’re asking us, he’s not there but it doesn’t hurt to confirm that rumor when I deliver the news as to whether or not he’s here.”

“ _You_?” Hela demands.

“Someone has to manage the shop. Pepper can’t right now.”

“Staneson.”

Tony shakes his head, “Obie manages our contracts with the Einherjar. He’s not going to handle individual commissions and day to day operations of the shop. To be honest, I don’t know how good he would actually be at it.”

“You are better? I thought you preferred to simply focus on your smithing.”

“ _Prefer it_ , yes, but you forget I ran the shop for centuries before I got myself a Pepper.”

“I dislike the idea of you being in Asgard,” she crosses her arms and works her jaw angrily. “There is something there. A sickness I cannot protect you from.”

Tony stops walking to put his hands on her shoulders. He squeezes.  

“I know I’m shit with a sword,” he tells her. “But there’s this queen I know who made sure I was a slick hand with a couple of daggers.”

Just to be a little shit, he brings his finger up to tap her on the nose, “Boop!”

Just like she always does, she blinks away her natural recoil at having anything that close to her face even though he knows he only got that close because she let him. She makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat, but there’s a curve at the corner of her mouth. Yeah, she loves it.

* * *

  


The Throne of Helheim is surprisingly plain for a queen.

Once a simple flat rock, the right size and height for someone to either sit or lay across as they so chose, it now rests on a raised dais with armrests and a backrest. An old pillow with a hole (once made by a chisel) sits on the stone and covers the blood drops of Helheim's Queen and Prince.

* * *

  


"He is not within my domain."

* * *

  


Loki opens his eyes to an old stone room, weathered and worn by time. He sits up and looks around only to find himself alone. The first thing he does is check his tethers but the magical one has dissipated and the physical one has clearly been cut. The cut tether puts him on edge.

The stones around him are dry but he smells the cool dampness of earth. The sort that says he's underground rather than simply in a cold climate. A stone nearby has a smearing of dried blood but he cautiously touches the side of his head to find blood crusted there and thinks its safe to assume it's his.

He'd had to come through this pathway particularly fast according to the book but Loki knew this cliff. Whispers told of mages that dashed themselves on the rocks at this cliff. Or at least, presumably did so, since they were seen to throw themselves off but bodies were not always recovered.

Loki puffs out a breath.

He _will not_ be one of those stories.

He _will_ go home.

* * *

  


A year goes by. Then two. Three. Five.  

Asgard begins to mourn their second prince, sure he is lost to them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter Warning:** In this chapter, it is implied that gossip believe the mages who attempted to find the hidden path the Loki used were actually attempting suicide because of the way you get into the pathway (think in Dark World where Loki speeds their ship into a tiny crevasse. Loki (and the readers) are aware that these deaths and disappearances were actually failed and successful attempts to enter the pathway.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki returns to Asgard older, wiser, older, and missed.  
> And older. Did I mention older? 
> 
> He's older now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by SuccubusKayko, dayzor, and silver drip.
> 
> 1367 = 22 years old

Tony frowns and sketches designs as he starts thinking that perhaps he _should_ close his shop a bit early. Obie's been pushing for it more and more. The individual commissions are _fun_ but they aren't as profitable as the Einherjar ever since Tony had to start splitting his time between minding the shop and doing the actual forging.

Tony's not so worried about the profits but... But the better equipment the Einherjar have, the better his Rhodey-bear will be protected. Obie thinks he should spend a bit more time innovating for the betterment of Asgard (it's not for _Odin_ , it's the people of Asgard, Obie insists).

Tony just wants to stay in his forge and make awesome things.

He looks up when the door opens (no closing the shop today, Obie!) but squints a bit at the man standing before him.

A man who would look very familiar but for the fact that he seems to have aged several more centuries than should be possible. (Then again, Tony and Hela stopped aging around a millennia ago, who is he to judge if someone decides to go the other direction with that.)

(That's even assuming this isn't some eerily similar lookalike.)

"What can I do for you?" Tony asks in his congenial-store-owner voice.

The man spreads his arms and, yeah, that's definitely not a lookalike. "I have returned!" he announces with a wide smile.

"Have you now," Tony crosses his arms and leans his hip against the table.

Loki struts into the room, hands now clasped behind his back. He stops in front of Tony, eyeing the crystal flower crown Hela had been getting more and more insistent about before his eyes drop to the crystal leaf pendant at Tony's throat.

"Yes, I have. Now go fetch me Lady Firebird. I'm certain she has missed me and I wish to tell her of my adventures."

Tony notes the way his eyes don't leave the pendant. He also feels the cord around his neck grow lighter.

"Oh dear, Howardson," he murmurs, a little _too_ knowingly. "It seems one the leaves on your amulet has dissolved itself."

Tony's eyes narrow.

"Yeah, they do that sometimes," he says but offers no explanation.

Loki huffs a laugh as he smirks but his eyes, now lit with something that could be delight (could be intrigue, could be indigestion for all Tony knows to be honest), finally leave the pendant and meet Tony's.

"People thought you were probably dead," Tony prompts and there might be just a _smidge_ of accusation in his tone.

"Hmm, yes. I've had quite the lecture from my father already, thank you."

Tony steps close to him with narrowed, angry eyes. He's nearly a head shorter than the other prince but he has plenty of experience towering over someone from below.

" _Pepper_ thought you were dead," he clarifies and is satisfied by the tiny flinch the other words bring. It knocks a bit of the bluster out of the other man.

"I came back as quickly as I could. The pathway back only opens so often." Suddenly he perks up again, exaggeratedly concerned, "I actually think I rather started a bit of a coup when I left. Knowledge for knowledge's sake, they said but oh no! You can't take the knowledge outside their protected little enclave. _That_ would be a travesty."

"You're being intentionally obtuse to try to distract me from being annoyed at you on Pepper's behalf," Tony says taking another step closer. They're almost chest to chest now, Tony's head has to tilt back and Loki's down to make eye contact.

"I am," Loki acknowledges, lowering his head and tilting it a bit. "Is it working?"

"No," Tony bites out. It's a lie though.

Loki hums low and deep in his chest and the sound _vibrates_ through Tony.

They're practically sharing air by the time the door bursts open and Pepper cries, "Loki!"

Loki doesn't even blink in surprise. Almost as if, despite Tony clearly not having sent for anyone, he knew that she had been informed and was no doubt making her way there. Tony narrows his eyes and taps his fingers against his thigh thoughtfully. This may require further investigation.

"Norns, look at you," Pepper says, her hands on Loki's face as she studies him. "You were a child five years ago."

"A thousand was hardly a child," his voice is more gentle than Tony would honestly expect of him.

"You aren't a thousand and five now though," Pepper's voice is sad.

"No," Loki acknowledges. "The realm I landed on was caught in the orbit of a dark horizon. Time passed slower there. The head mage promised I would have time to become a master and be home by supper. His calculations were a bit off, I'm afraid."

Tony, off in the back of the room and very pointedly _not paying attention_ , can't help the sharp look he sends in the mage's direction. That version is a bit different than the one he'd just given Tony.

"How old-"

"Thirteen hundred and sixty-seven."

Peppers face is pained for just the briefest of flashes. Tony knows her well enough, has seen what the loss did to her over these last five years, to know that she's counting how many years of his childhood she's missed out on.

It's gone as soon as it appears and then she's clutching him to her, "You're alive. That's all that matters."

Pepper doesn't see the relief on Loki's face at her words. Nor does she see the way his hands come up, hover for a moment, before finally settling around her.

Tony sneaks out of the shop then, flipping the sign to closed behind him.

* * *

  


Pepper clutches Loki, sending a silent thank you to the Norns. She is surprised, but grateful, that he simply lets her cling to him. He hadn't done that since he was a young child. Once he'd hit seven hundred, her hugs and doting were for _babies_.

But now he lets her until her hands stop shaking and her eyes stop burning.

He lets her and he hugs her back and _oh Norns,_ her little field mouse is alive.

"I have something for you," Pepper tells him urgently, pulling away. She reaches for the chain around her neck and pulls her mother's ring, her clan trinket, out from under her shirt. It is suddenly desperately important that he never leave her sight without this again. She realizes its irrational but something in her brain whispers that if only he'd had the protections this ring offered he would have come to her sooner. "It was my mother's. She was, uh- She had big hands so you'll need to magic it smaller."

She takes the ring off its chain and puts it in his palm. Loki holds it up and arches an eyebrow at its size, more than twice his own thumb.

"I did say she had big hands," Pepper repeats.

Green shimmers around the ring and it shrinks in his fingers right before her eyes. Once it's to size he goes to put it on his thumb but she shakes her head. "Keep going, it needs to fit on your pinkie."

He looks at her, appalled, but does as she says. "That was the size of your mother's _pinkie_?"

Once the ring is shrunk and placed on the pinkie of his left hand, Pepper takes his hand in his and traces the ring with her own finger. She wonders if this is how her mother had felt when she passed it off to her. Deluati had been adorned with many other clan trinkets at the time, even Pepper herself had been. It hadn't felt so significant to receive it then.

"I know silver and purple aren't your colors but-"

He traps her hand between his. "I would sooner allow someone to cut my finger off than remove it," he promises.

Pepper clicks her tongue, "It's a family heirloom but it’s not as important as your finger, you ridiculous boy."

She's touched all the same by the thought.

Judging from his smile, that's why he said it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Loki and Tony:** *Exist in a room together*  
>  **Me:** Now kissssss.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I had _adventures_ , not _mis_ adventures."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by SuccubusKayko, dayzor, and silver drip.

Loki stands in the doorway to his rooms in the royal quarters and takes it in. This, getting back here, it hadn't been a _goal_ per se, not until the end. Not until he realized they had no intention of letting him leave. That they banked on the young mages they tutored making some mistake and ending up bound to them.

They gave Loki more and more power under the assumption that one day he would slip up and grant them his name.

He doesn't know why 'Loki' hadn't worked for them. It should have and he'd given it before he'd known better.

"Are you going to go in or just look?" Mother asks from behind him.

"Perhaps I shall just look," he replies to be obstinate. When he looks at her over his shoulder she's smiling at him warmly.

"Go in," she urges, nudging him in the shoulder playfully. "You're blocking the door."

"Oh, well, if I'm blocking the door," he says and settles his stance.

Mother clicks her tongue.

Loki laughs and turns to face her. He makes a show of stepping into the room backwards so he can watch her face as he does so.

"There," he says, standing in the room and giving her a twirl with his arms spread. "I am in the room."

He expects her to laugh at his antics, as she always has before. He isn't expecting a sharp inhale and for her hand to dart up to cover her mouth. He freezes.

"So you are," she says but there is a strain to her voice.

"Mother?" Loki murmurs, taking a step towards her.

She shakes her head and holds her hands out in front of her as if to hold him off. "It is simply good to see you in these rooms again."

He steps forward and takes her hands in his. Studying her face closely. There is more to it than that, he thinks, but she looks so pained he doesn't push.

"This is new," Mother comments. She uses the grip she has to bring his hand up and turn it so she can study the ring on his pinkie . "You've never particularly enjoyed purple or silver before..."

The finger of her other hand traces the intricate carvings around the rim of the deep purple stone. It grates on his nerves every time her fingernail catches on the carvings. Some deep instinct screams at him to rip his hand and the ring away from her; that this casual close study, this _touching_ , of the ring is far too intimate even from his mother. _Especially_ from his mother.

"Where did you get it?" her tone is casual but it rings as deceitful. Probing.

The same instincts that say to rip the ring away from her tell him _lie, lie, lie_.

"It's nothing but a war trinket from my escape home," he says.

"A war _prize_ , you mean," she corrects with hard, urgent eyes.

He blinks, glancing down to where she's squeezing his hand.

"Yes, of course," he concedes, unsure why the different phrasing is so important but willing to let her have her way.

Her face clears, becoming happy and serene in an instant.

"Good," she tells him, dropping his hand and stepping past him into the room. "Now, we shall have to get you remeasured for clothes and armor. Weapons too I suppose. Did you end up preferring the staff or the spear? Oh, no matter, we'll have both made for you and you can simply use whichever you prefer."

"I have armor," he laughs.

"But is it from _home_?" Mother asks.

"No, it's _better_ ," Loki tells her. "Asgardian armor is too heavy, it holds me back. The armor I have is more suited for daggers and seidr."

"Oh," she says. "You still prefer dual daggers?"

"Yes," he answers stiffly, straightening his back and sticking his chin out.

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Nothing. I just always hoped you'd grow to prefer a staff or a spear," her tone is disappointed. It creeps up his spine like it always did as a child but he is no longer a malleable infant to be guided, he has his preferences and he is allowed them. When she sees his expression, she rushes back to him, putting her hands on his cheeks, "Oh Loki. You misunderstand me, son. I only hoped you would choose a weapon that would grant you better distance from your opponents. A dagger versus a sword? You'll start every fight at a disadvantage."

His smile is sharp, more cutting and devious than he could ever manage as a child.

"I promise you I won't, Mother."

* * *

  


Loki goes to Pepper's house first but there is no answer at the door and a peek in the window shows the thin layer of dust coating everything has gone but the house is still dark. He frowns, unsure where she would go if not here.

The shop, perhaps?

He turns and only just keeps himself from jerking back when he finds Bera standing directly behind him. She looks even more terrifying than he remembers from the times she caught him sneaking over Pepper's fence to steal fruit from her garden.

It's probably the addition of her armor, sword, and shield that do it, although, to be fair, she was pretty terrifying to begin with.

"Hello, Lady Bera," he greets carefully.

"Loki," she greets. She has that flat, angry expression that usually means she's either about to lecture him or drag him back to Pepper for _her_ to lecture him.

"How have you been?" Loki asks pleasantly, hoping politeness will allow him to avoid, forestall, or at least _lessen_ the coming scolding. He opens his eyes a bit wider and smiles sweetly, a look he knows makes him look younger, innocent, and guileless.

Her flat anger remains unchanged.

"I've been in mourning, Loki. That's how I've been."

"Oh," he has to stop himself from recoiling in surprise. He had not expected that at all.

"My best friend had a son. The boy, who I'd known since he barely reached my hip. She found she could no longer stay in Asgard, where memories of him gazed back from every corner. She moved away and I lost them both."

"I'm very sorry for your loss," he says genuinely. Bera had been kind to him growing up, despite his constant thievery. He would not wish that sort of loss on her.

She hums. "The Norns have seen fit to bless me, it seems. The boy was lost, not dead and I may yet get them both back."

"That is truly a rare gift," he tells her. "I'm happy for you."

"Thank you," she nods. "Pepper will not return for some time. She's in Helheim packing to move back."

Her arms drop and her stance relaxes. She studies the house behind him. For a brief moment, Loki thinks he sees the echo of grief on her face before its squashed.

"I've just picked a bowl of fresh strawberries," she says, turning to the path towards her house. "I'm sure your dying to tell someone about all your misadventures."

" _Ad_ ventures, Lady Bera," he corrects following after, feeling a bit like he did when he was six hundred but not minding in the least. "I had _adventures_ , not _mis_ adventures."

"You forget that I've met you," she insists.

"Alright, fine. That's true," he agrees as they enter her kitchen. It still smells like earth from the potted plants in the window. "But they weren't _all_ misadventures."

She puts the bowl of strawberries in front of him and adds another of whipped cream next to it. He blinks at the cream. It's a treat he loved as a child but she would rarely grant, always claiming it spoiled the effort she put into growing them in the first place.

He’s sure he's imagining the shine to her eyes as she takes the seat across from him.

"Tell me your favorite."

* * *

  


“They are lovely designs,” Loki says standing in the Merchant’s forge, tracing his fingers over the markings on the page. He manages to keep the disappointment out of his voice that they are, in fact, beautiful. He has no reason to complain or turn them down.

“Yeah, I’m sensing a _‘But_ ’ coming there, String Bean.”

Loki knows he _should_ deny it. His mother made herself clear, intentional or not, that she wished he would train more with staff or spear. He should deny it but he can’t bring himself to.

“It’s funny,” the Merchant says as he lays the designs out for a staff and a spear on the table in the forge of his home. “I remember you preferring daggers, myself.”

Loki huffs, “Yes. For many years.”

Shockingly, not liking the designs isn’t met with scorn but rather seems to please the Merchant. The other man reaches under a table and pulls out a box. He looks delighted as he hands it over to Loki saying, “Obie totally owes me a flagon of mead. Open it! Open it!”

Loki cracks the box open, he can’t stop the little puff of surprise from escaping when he sees the contents. He lifts one of the daggers and grips it in his hand.

“You would defy the Allfather’s order?” Loki whispers.

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” the Merchant laughs. “But in this particular instance, consider those a welcome home present. Pepper was sad when you were gone,” he says with a sideways sniff.

Loki returns the dagger to the box, “They’re perfect. Thank you.”

“Course they are. I made them. I’ll make the spear and staff so the Alldaddy doesn’t annoy you, but if you want to spar with someone who actually knows how to fight? You should come to... well, ok not me. But I _am_ pretty good with daggers, I’ll bet I could even beat you if you _were_ using a staff.”

“Is that a challenge?” Loki asks.

“I’ve got a staff,” the Merchant’s smirk is taunting. “If you want to grab it.”

Loki steps close to him, “I can handle a staff like you’ve never seen anyone before,” he promises.

“I’ve seen a lot of people try to handle these staves. You sure you’ve got the skill?”

“I promise you, Merchant, you shall not be left wanting.”

“Oh, please, call me Tony,” the Merchant says, waving his hand to a wall of staves for Loki to pick from. “You’re about to be handling my staff after all.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Look, Obie," Tony says, pointedly ignoring the glare. "Loki likes his daggers."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beat'ed by Succubus Kayko and dayzor

Loki is straddling Tony’s hips and holding daggers to his throat. Both of them are panting, Loki is fighting to keep a serious look on his face but it’s a losing battle. One Tony has already lost as he wiggles the dagger at Loki’s ribs to draw attention to it.

Loki laughs in delight.

“A draw,” Tony offers.

“I seem to remember you saying you’d beat me if I used a staff,” Loki taunts, dropping the daggers and flopping onto the ground next to him.

“I got you to abandon the staff for the daggers,” Tony insists. "I call that a win."

“I didn’t _abandon_ the staff,” the mage says haughty. “I threw it at you in an attack you barely managed to dodge.”

"You threw it at me like a spear! I think you forgot which weapon you were using ” Tony snorts. He turns his head to look over with an exaggerated thoughtful expression. “Maybe you _do_ need the practice.”

Loki waves a hand at the staff, lodged several inches in one of the soft foam walls. "With seidr I can make a staff act like a spear even if it wasn't designed for it."

Tony raises his head and let's off a low whistle, "Point, you."

Loki let's off a prideful hum.

"Well, that was fun," Tony says, climbing to his feet.

"Yes. I needed a good workout," Loki agrees.

"The fight club at the palace not up to your exacting standards?"

Loki opts to remain on the ground, dramatically posed with his arms spread. "All they do is bash each other about the head. There's no style, no _finesse._ I truly fear they've all hit their heads too many times and are simply incapable of anything else at this point."

"Oh my," Tony offers him with mock pity.

"Would you like to go again?" Loki asks. "I'm afraid I didn't get the chance to try out the new daggers and I would quite like to against someone who won't complain when I use my seidr techniques."

"Alright, go fetch them then," Tony agrees easily enough.

Loki has to admit that there is a lightness in his chest as he goes to the main room to get the daggers from the box. An eagerness, he had expected but found lacking since his return home.

When he returns to the arena, he flips the daggers in his hands to test them then throws one at the foam wall. They are things of beauty. Perfectly balanced, designed to absorb seidr, As elegant as they are deadly. A twist of his wrist brings it back to his hand.

He glances over to catch Tony watching him with the evaluating eyes of one who knows what a _weapon_ is capable of and is curious if the _wielder_ is worthy of it. Loki throws the daggers again, this time with a bit more flare, and precision even more deadly.

Loki smirks at the way Tony's gaze take a slightly hungry undertone.

"Shall we?"

Somehow, Loki isn't surprised that this fight, too, ends with him straddling the other man with a dagger at his throat. He's not surprised, but he's not complaining either.

* * *

 

One of Tony's arms is trapped between his hip and Loki's thigh. The other is pinned above his head; Loki's fingers are wrapped around it forcing him to lean forward and rest his weight on that arm to prevent any of his weight from going on the wickedly sharp dagger at Tony's throat.

"Do you yield?" The mage asks, a low, deep rumble in his chest that lights a fire under Tony's skin.

He licks his bottom lip but doesn't get the chance to answer because someone clears their throat. Tony let's off a disappointed sigh as Loki's hold on his wrist loosens and the dagger eases back slightly.

Tony turns his head to look at the door. He finds a rather disgruntled Obie glaring at him.

"Look, Obie," he says, pointedly ignoring the glare. "Loki likes his daggers."

"You were paid to make him a staff and a spear," Obie replies.

"I'll still make those," he says. He has to wriggle his wrist out from under Loki's thighs to wave the comment away. Sadly, this make him climb off Tony and get to his feet. Oh well, the mood was lost now anyway. "The daggers were a gift."

"Well, I should be going," Loki says, luckily before Obie can grump about him _giving his skills away_. He likes to remind Tony that his skills are worth money and he shouldn’t just give them away or under charge like some noname, new to the game. And he's right, Tony knows, but sometimes Tony thinks that he has plenty and shouldn't he be allowed to just give things away if he wants?

They've been butting heads a bit more, recently.

"I shall be seeing you around more often?" Loki asks, Tony doesn't think he's imagining the playful curve to his mouth.

"Ah," Tony says awkwardly. "I'll probably be moving back to Helheim soon."

"What?" Obie asks.

Tony frowns, Obie should know that. It should have been obvious. "With Pepper coming back to man the shop, I can spend more time in my forge. I have better tools in Helheim."

"Tools none of the smiths here can reproduce," Obie argues.

"None of the other smiths on Asgard can compete with it either," Tony taunts. He glances over to Loki to see if he's feeling awkward or wanting to leave but instead he has a fascinated expression on his face. Tony half expects him to summon popped corn and start shoveling it in his mouth.

"Tony," Obie sighs. "This throws a bit of a wrench in the plans for the Einherjar contracts."

Tony shrugs. "If you limit me to the old boring tools that other smiths use, you can't expect me to come up with anything worth getting excited over.”

“Tony...”

“Hmm. Nope, discussion over," Tony says, turning his attention back to Loki and waving a hand over his shoulder.

He smirks when Obie’s only response is a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Animal Planet Narrator Voice:** Here you see the rare flirtations of the Loki. He has spotted a potential mate and attempts to attract it. See how he throws the daggers. And look! The Tony reciprocates his interest.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No one can ever make my clever brother be where he doesn't want to be!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by Succubus Kayko and dayzor

"Brother!"

Loki turns but quickly finds his arms filled with his blond buffoon of a brother.

"Hello, Thor," he greets.

Thor pulls back but his hand comes up to grip the back of Loki's neck with a small but firm shake, "I thought you dead."

"Not dead," he promises. "Only a bit stuck."

"Ah, but no one can ever make _my_ clever brother be where he doesn't want to be!" Thor finishes for him, boisterous as Loki remembers him. He turns, presenting Loki to his friends with a sweeping arm, "Friends! Look!"

"Loki. It is good to see you are not among the dead," Volstagg cheers.

"It's good to see so many had such faith in my skills that you all assumed me among the dead," Loki can't help but snap. "Despite having been told I was not so by both Father and the Queen of Hel."

"Sulk not, brother!" Thor shouts, moving to his side and pulling him close. "It is not your skills we doubted but your love for us that we trusted to bring you back if you lived. And look, we were right!"

Loki blinks but keeps his mouth shut, mollified.

"And just in time too!" Thor finishes like an excited puppy. "My coronation as crown prince is upon us, brother!"

Dread fills Loki. The brother he remembers was not ready for that kind of responsibility... but then again, he has had to survive without Loki's careful manipulations for several years. It _is_ possible he's grown in that time.

More importantly, why had Mother and Father not told him about this? Why had they allowed Thor to spring it on him so unpleasantly?

"That should be several decades off, why is it happening now?" Loki asks, squashing the breathless quality to his voice.

He is surprised at how much Thor sobers. "It was announced while you were absent. Father thought it best to give the people some sense of hope."

Loki restrains himself from saying he doubts very much anyone but a handful missed him enough to require cheering in his absence. Many don't seem to have cared one way or another whether he was present or not.

"Where have you been, then?" Loki asks instead of continuing down this same subject. "I doubt I could have avoided you this long if you were skulking about in corners let alone running around celebrating."

"I have just returned from the coronation tour Father sent me on around the realms. I did not hear of your return until I returned myself, brother, or I would have cut short the tour and returned immediately no matter the consequence. We go to feast. Join us and we will tell you of our adventures and all that has changed in Asgard since you left."

Thor is earnest, at least the years have not changed that.  But Loki's time away from his brother's shadow have tarnished the bright shine. Loki has aged but Thor has remained unchanged.

"I have suddenly remembered something I need to speak with Mother about urgently," Loki tells him but he sees the way Thor droops and tacks on, "but I shall join you when I am finished if you like."

"I do, brother! I do!" Thor claps his shoulder heavy enough Loki has to lock his knees to stay upright then releases him. "I shall see you in the dining hall!" he shouts walking backwards.

Loki frowns as he watches him go. He waits until they've all turned a corner before going to seek his mother.

She has some explaining to do.

* * *

  


Hela lounges on a table in Tony's forge and observes. One of the little creatures he built whirs and twists its eye. It pokes her in the side with its face-claw (a strange design, she can't imagine why Tony came up with it). She waits until Tony is distracted, his back turned as he draws out a billet for a... something. It's not a sword or weapon she's ever seen before. Once she is assured he is not paying attention to her, she gently runs her fingers down the metal body of the creature.

Tony takes the metal from the hot forge to his cold forge. It explodes as soon as his hammer hits it, the metal made far too brittle. He frowns, picking up a piece of the metal and studying it intently before nodding.

"You get that, J?" he asks.

_"It was hard to miss, Sir."_

Hela pauses her petting of the creature by her, "Is this for that monstrosity in the courtyard?"

(It pokes her with a pitiful whir.)

"It's not a monstrosity," he mutters without looking at her.

(Whir, whir. Poke, poke. Pitiful. Hela clicks her tongue and gives in, resuming her petting.)

"It's certainly an eyesore," she mutters. "What is it supposed to be?"

"You'll see when it’s finished."

"Meaning you don't know."

He gasps, dramatic and offended. "I know! I'm just choosing not to tell anyone."

"Including yourself?"

"Rude. You're being rude. And rude people don't get to spend time in my forge spoiling my lazy bot," he sends her a half-hearted glare.

Hela hums. "Very well. Come, creature. I am the kinder mistress. We shall leave him to his exploding metal."

She doesn't wait to see if it follows her but it must considering Tony loudly gasps, " _Betrayal!_ Did you see that, J? Betrayed by my own creation."

_"Indeed, Sir. It seems Dummy is quite susceptible to bribery by petting. I shall make a note."_

The voices from the forge fade as she heads towards her throne. In the quiet of the halls, she can hear the quiet turning of well oiled treads. It nudges her shoulder.

"In a moment," she soothes with a brush of her fingers.

It is only once she is settled on her throne, Dummy at her side and vibrating with attention, that she says, "JARVIS?"

_"Yes, My Lady?"_

"Would Dummy be amenable to accompanying Tony back to Asgard when he returns?" she asks, watching the creature in her lap for its reaction. It raises its head and lets of a beep-whir-twist.

_"I believe he would remind you that, although never explicitly stated, he believes he was created to keep you company when Sir has to leave you here alone."_

"I have you for company," she assures them.

A sad whir. A metallic head drooped in her lap. JARVIS doesn't bother to translate that response.

"The Strands of Fate continue to weave themselves tighter together around my brother. Something is coming and everything I do to avoid it just pulls them tighter. I need as many protections in Asgard as I can,” she strokes the creature’s metalic head soothingly. “Will you go for me and protect him?”

It beeps and whirs sadly but then gives a nod.

She cannot leave her brother unprotected from whatever is coming.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki gets in a fight. Goes looking for another fight just for funnies. And then ends up working off his energy another way *wink*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Please note the change in story rating!** Up until this point the story has been posted as "Unrated" because I wasn't sure whether it would end up falling on the "Mature" side of the line or the "Explicit" side. This chapter takes us up to explicit (please be nice, this is my first attempt at writing explicit content :P )
> 
> Beta'ed by silver drip and dendrite_blues.

“Mother, I do not understand why you did not just tell me,” Loki pleads. “I have been home for several weeks now.”

“Oh, Loki,” Mother soothes. She tries to bring her hands up to his face to assuage him but he jerks back from her, not willing to be calmed until he has an answer. “Do you see any arrangements happening around you? Do you see guests arriving, feast tables being set up, banners hung from the ceiling?”

She pauses. Loki has to admit, even if it’s just silently to himself, that, _no_ , there are no preparations for this coronation taking place yet. He looks away from her.

“These things take time,” he can hear the amused lilt in her voice. “And we were just so happy to have you home. _Alive_.”

Guilt floods him at the tremble in her voice she’s clearly trying to hide, but he has one last point to press. He has to, for the good of Asgard. “The brother I remember was not ready to be Crown Prince.”

“You have been missing some years,” she tells him, both amused and pained. “Perhaps he is not the brother you remember so clearly. Give him a chance.”

“Mother.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

“ _Loki_ ,” Mother chides.

It’s enough. He might not agree with her but he feels his ability to fight her on this is draining out of him. His shoulders slump and her hands come to rest on his face.

“Give him a chance,” she repeats. “He might surprise you.”

The doubt is like a stone in his gut but he can’t tell her that.

He nods.

* * *

 

Loki doesn’t so much forget that he told Thor he would join him and his friends as he neglects to remember. After the conversation with their mother, he feels an irritation that he needs an outlet for. His very bones vibrate with an urgent need to _do something_.

It's late, he knows the shop won't be open, so he finds Tony in his home forge. He looks up when Loki enters.

"Pepper’s not here.”

“I’m not looking for Pepper,” Loki says and marches up to the smith. He stands, perhaps a bit too close. From here he can easily see the flush to the other man’s skin, brought on by heat and effort. He can feel something deep in him begin to pool. “You had said if I ever desired a rematch you would be happy to oblige.”

Tony smirks.  Loki can see the way he traces the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “I did.”

“Now?”  


“By all means,” Tony says, waving his hand at the back door.

* * *

 

Tony offers his sparring daggers but it makes Loki scoff at him.

"I am perfectly capable of controlling myself to spar with real daggers," he sniffs.

Amusement bubbles in Tony's gut. He picks one of the blunted daggers up and runs his fingers around the jewel on the end, turning the stone from a rich amethyst to a brilliant aquamarine. It catches Loki's eye so he keeps turning. Emerald, citrine, amber, ruby. The gradual change allowing for almost every color stone imaginable.

"Pick your color," Tony says, settling on a bright ruby.

He slides the dagger across his palm and a matching red follows the path. Loki (concerned or annoyed that Tony's just damaged his sparring partner, it's a bit difficult to tell really) leaps forward to snatch the dagger away. It's _definitely_ annoyance when Tony taps the reset sequence on the dagger and the red fades.

"Sparring daggers that leave marks," Tony tells him proudly. "My sister enchanted them for me."

"Anthony Howardson has no sister according to the birth registry," Loki snaps at him.

"I got myself one," he waves off. He had expected fascination with the daggers . The eagerness to use them to override whatever had unsettled the other man enough to bring him here looking for some kind of fight. Instead, it just seems to agitate him further.

Loki huffs and glares, grabbing a set of the daggers and twisting the end to a deep emerald. _But._ He also magics away his heavier leathers for more casual linens and the sight is _doing things_ to Tony's attention.

"Come on, then," Loki demands.

Who is Tony to deny him?

(Tony locks the door first this time though. _Norns,_ does he lock the door first. No interruptions this time. For both of their good.)

 _After_ locking the door though, Tony grabs the twin to the dagger he's already holding and scrambles after him.

Once he's facing Loki in the arena, it doesn't take much to realize this isn't going to be a hard fight. Loki may be the better fighter but he's agitated, too distracted to mount a proper defense, and Tony himself is no slouch.

Of course just as Tony thinks that, a blunt dagger runs across his throat from behind, leaving a green streak as the daggers are intended (although Tony himself can't see it).

"Do not underestimate me," Loki snarls in Tony's ear.

"Oookay," Tony agrees slowly. "But seeing as I am definitely dead and defeated you should probably let me go now?"

The second Loki lets him go Tony whips around and jabs the dagger in his chest over his heart. The blade disappears in a shower of red sparkles as it meets his skin, leaving a mark in Tony's color on his chest.

"We hadn't started yet, asshole."

"Do you think a real battle will come with a convenient starting bell?" Loki asks, tone imperious and chin held high as he falls into a fighting stance.

Tony feels incredulous disbelief crawl across his face.

"I was on Jotunheim when the last real war Asgard fought broke out; don't you talk to me about real battles, String Bean," Tony huffs and falls into a stance opposite him.

It doesn't surprise him that Loki is the one to press forward first. He's been drilled to fight since childhood whereas Tony spend his childhood _making_ the weapons but rarely _using_ them. Tony has to swipe with his dagger, just narrowly avoiding a green mark on his bicep. He allows the motion to carry onward, disguising the dagger in his other hand that follows.

Oh, but Loki blocks that with a pleased smirk. The agitation Tony had seen before is starting to melt off him now and his moves are turning more fluid. More intentional.

Which is why it's oddly suspicious when Tony suddenly starts winning. Loki is forced to take one step and then another. By the third, the hairs on the back of Tony's neck are prickling. He waits until he feels a disturbance, just a breath out of place, on his neck, and then he ducks away from the dagger at his throat.

"The same trick twice?" he clicks.

"It brought _you_ to your knees, didn't it?"

Technically, he's in a crouch but Tony is not going to dither over phrasing. He lets his eyes trail slowly over Loki's entire form, "I'm not seeing anything wrong with that at the moment, to be honest."

He sees the moment his offer to turn this from battle of wits and daggers to battle of a more carnal nature. Loki's daggers fall, just a hair. His checks flush. His lips part. His chest rises and falls that much quicker.

His eyes flick down over Tony.

So Tony does what any gentleman would do in this situation and lets his knees hit the ground.

There is a sudden but sharp intake of breath.

"And if I have no desire to..."

"Then we go back to working out whatever is bothering you with our daggers and not with our, ah," Tony smirks, " _Daggers_."

Loki stands there staring so long Tony is starting to be sure he's about to be turned down. He's about to twist in the way that will bring him back from his knees to the crouch that will let them continue their sparring where they left off when Loki drops his daggers and falls to his knees in front of Tony.

Tony has to throw an arm behind him to prevent them from falling over entirely from the force of Loki mashing their mouths together. It takes a bit of maneuvering to get his legs out from under him but it's nothing Tony hasn't done before. He uses the hand not supporting them to hold Loki in place as he lowers them backward.

"The door?" Loki mutters against his mouth.

"Locked."

"Presumptuous."

"Preventative."

Tony inhales sharply as Loki's lips wander from his mouth to his jaw to his neck. Questing fingers sneak under the neckline of his shirt to rub along his collarbone, the occasional _scritch_ of fingernails providing just enough of a taunting sensation to keep the feeling from fading into the background.

Tony lets his legs fall open and they both groan as their hips press together. Tony's head falls back and he presses it against the ground. He lets his fingers slip under Loki's shirt but once they reach his ribs the mage jerks, suddenly tense. They both freeze for a second before he relaxes and Tony resumes. The jerk is repeated and Tony presses his had more firmly, going from teasing little brushes to firm strokes.

Loki melts and give a tiny, experimental thrust with his hips. Tony can't help the way his own jerk up to meet them and they fall into an easy rhythm. Tony takes one of his hands and slips both of them out of their pants. He spits in his palm and grips them both but _Norns,_ it's not enough.

Loki's hand joins his, slick with something from somewhere that Tony doesn't care enough to question right now because the other man's hand grips them both tightly and it's exactly what Tony needs.

Their speed picks up. Their mouths become sloppy. One of them let's off a quietly panted _ah-ah-ah_ and the other says _I'm-I'm_.

 _Goooo_ , one of them groans.

Afterward, Loki rolls off him and the mess is cleaned with a wave of his hand. He lays his head on Tony's bicep.

"Handy," Tony mutters happily.

"Are you falling asleep?" Loki asks, way too energetic for their previous activity.

"Yup. Sex. Sleep. That's how things go," Tony says.

"You're in the middle of the floor."

Tony opens his eyes to see Loki has tucked himself away and done his pants up but not yet smoothed his hair. Tony likes the mussed up look, some of that could be a territorial instinct rearing its ugly head though.

"Bed's far away. I'll move later."

He laughs at the incredulous look on Loki's face but it would be rude not to at least see him out so he forces himself to sit up. He tucks himself away and does his own pants up.

"You work out whatever you needed to?" he asks. He _does not_ groan as he rises to his feet. He doesn't. (He does.)

"Hoping for round two?" Loki asks, studying him from the corner of his eye.

"Not opposed if you're offering," Tony shrugs. "Mostly just asking if you sorted out whatever needed to be sorted out. You know. For posterity."

He can feel the way Loki studies him more carefully.

"I would not be opposed to a second round; you were... enjoyable," Loki agrees. "But not today. I promised my brother I would meet him for dinner and I'm afraid I am already quite late."

"I'm usually here when I'm in Asgard, String Bean," Tony offers. "And I'm always up for a bit of rough and tumble."

By the time he shows Loki out the sleepiness has worn off so he goes to work.

Obie says the Einherjar need something new. Something bigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say one last thing. I know I haven't been great about responding to comments the last couple of chapters. I do see them (I do a happy little wiggle every time one comes in) but I just haven't had time to respond to them all. (*shameless begging*) Please do keep commenting, they make my day when they come in.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations. You've created a massive glowing blue lamp in our courtyard. -_-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by dayzor and silver drip

"Congratulations," Hela says flatly. "You've created a massive glowing blue lamp in our courtyard."

"It generates a bit more than light," Tony snorts.

Yes, she'd rather assumed that going by the way the spirits not hiding in crystal walls or plants had immediately retreated from the area when he'd turned it on.

"Its vibrations make my teeth hurt," she informs him crossing her arms and jutting her hip out. She also presses her tongue to the back of her teeth to make sure they aren't actually vibrating out of her gums.

"Really? Huh, I don't feel anything," Tony mutters. "I might be able to turn it down?"

"What is it _for_?" Hela presses. It's not so annoying, nor so far reaching based on how far the spirits have retreated, that she cannot tolerate it if there is an actual purpose to it.

"It's for you," her brother says, blinking at her in that wide-eyed innocent way he has that means he just wants people to have nice things and why can't they understand that?

"Oh," Hela says, squinting a bit. "...Thank you?"

"You don't like it," he huffs.

"You still haven't explained what it is."

Hela is surprised when his face becomes grim; his eyes trail down her tattered clothing, flicking from one hole to another.

"I didn't notice until I started spending longer lengths of time in Asgard," he tells her. "The holes are getting bigger and the green is fading."

"So what good does _this_ do me?" she doesn't intend for it to come out as snappish as it does but this is not something she likes having pointed out. Not even by her beloved brother, the family she has _chosen_ , the prince she knows will not use the knowledge against her.

"You draw your power from the realm you call home but you've been cut off from Asgard and there's not enough life here in Helheim to support you."

Realization floods her and the buzzing teeth suddenly seems such a minuscule trade for what he is offering her.

"It's an energy source," she murmurs in awe at what he has accomplished. _For her_. Solely because he cared enough to notice there was a problem that wasn't even a problem yet that needed solving. " _Princeling_."

"All you have to do is tap into it, Queeny." His voice is surprisingly gentle as he rests his hand on her shoulder.

She has to get close to access it. The closer she gets, the worse the vibrations are almost to the point of pain but she pushes through. Once she lays her hand on the side and sends a tendril of her seidr into it, it welcomes her. The power feels reminiscent of Tony but shifted, transformed into something else.

The power it supplies her is more than enough to replace what she once had.

"Brother," she breathes.

"I like the teal," he responds causally.

There is a whole conversation contained in those few words.

* * *

 

Loki notices the hunting parties being sent out more often he frowns but doesn't question it. 

* * *

 

The palace servants prepare guest rooms and Loki narrows his eyes but does not question it. He _doesn't_.

* * *

 

Merchants arrive in unusual numbers, certainly more than the local markets have room for. It niggles at the back Loki's mind but he  _Does Not Question It_.

* * *

 

"You're falling asleep," Loki complains and jabs Tony in the ribs. "Stay awake, I want to go again."

Tony throws his arm over his eyes and groans. "We've gone twice already, Lokes. Let a man catch his breath."

"No," Loki jabs him harder and is rewarded by Tony pinning his wrist to the bed and rolling on top of him. Tony's eyes sparkles with mischief.

He leans down and nibbles around Loki's nipple without actually touching it. Loki brings his hand to the back of his head, trying to direct it _right there_ , but the teasing just continues. Loki can feel the curl of Tony's smirk against his pec. A low chuckle rumbles against his skin with tantalizing puffs of air.

"Maybe I should just keep doing this," Tony suggests. His tongue darts out to swirl around the raised bud, barely grazing it.

Loki rewards him with a whimper. He has found the more noise he makes the more likely Tony is to repeat something. The pattern holds as a tongue dips out to brush past his nipple again. Loki isn't expecting him to dart forward and take it between his teeth, tugging and letting the slow drag of it falling out of his teeth make Loki's hips jerk involuntarily, seeking friction. They find nothing to rub against, however, because his horrible, terrible bed-partner lifts his own hips away.

"Cruel," Loki accuses.

"Hmm, I thought you wanted to continue?" Tony asks before giving the other side of his chest the same treatment. Loki presses his head against the pillow, reveling in the sense of straining muscles.

"Tony," he whines.

"There it is," Tony murmurs and finally, _finally_ Loki feels fingers brush against him. His hips jerk again but this time there's a now-familiar palm for him to thrust against. And when the rough, calloused fingers curl around him, he barely notices when the hand that had been around his wrist comes up to clumsily brush the hair out of his face and scratch at his scalp.

"C'mon, c'mon," Tony mutters.

It is one more in a cacophony of sensations but it is when Tony takes his nipple in his teeth one final time and _tugs_ that Loki spills himself over their stomachs and Tony's hand.

As he lays there panting afterward, it takes him an embarrassingly long moment for him to realize. "You didn't finish."

Tony grunts, "Told you, I was all tuckered out after the last round. Happy to give you a _hand_ , though."

He holds his hand up to Loki's face and waves it a bit pointedly. Loki snorts and uses his seidr to clean them both up. Tony rolls off him.

"You're getting spoiled with that."

"Oh, I absolutely am," Tony confirms, a little too pleased with himself in Loki's opinion.

Loki rolls himself from the bed and magics his clothing on himself. Unlike his lazy bed partner, Loki still has to make his way back to his own bed.

"Hey, before you go," Tony says, his tone surprisingly cautious. Loki pauses and looks at him. He's sat himself up in the bed and dragged a blanket across his waist. The blanket is an interesting touch for a man usually so brazen with nudity. "I got a commission order from the royal household."

"It'll be from my mother then, if you were willing to take it." Loki says it as a statement but it's really meant as a question. A question of relevance, a question of timing, a request for more details.

"It didn't say and that's not the point," Tony waves off. "Loki. It was a commission for your brother's coronation."

Loki shakes his head, "Mother assured me that was years away."

" _When?_ " Tony presses. "From what you've told me all she said was that it takes time to arrange a coronation. It's _been_ time. It's been almost a year since you've been back."

Loki pulls himself up tall, his chin juts out just a bit and his glare is cold with misdirected anger. All of the things he has been intentionally not questioning have come back to bite him.

"She's my mother," Loki snaps. "She wouldn't lie to me."

"I'm not saying she lied. I'm saying it sounds like she pretty carefully didn't lie."

"I insist you cease these slanderous insults,” he hisses.

Tony sighs. "Look, I'm just saying consider it."

“She’s my mother,” Loki repeats softly. He can admit, if only to himself, that there is a hint of pleading in it though whether he’s pleading to the Norns for it not to be as he (and Tony) knows it certainly is or whether he’s pleading at Tony to simply stop is something not even he knows.

Something flashes across Tony’s face, before his shoulders slump, “Loki.”

Loki doesn’t want to hear it. A swirl of green magic sends him back to his chambers in the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... Frigga has taken an interesting turn in this story. I'm not entirely sure what she's up to at this point. She's gone off in her own direction that is not what I originally had planned for her. I'm just going to let her go and see she where she ends up though, because I feel like the character has a plan for herself even if she's not letting me in on it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone just generally has a bad time all around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed by SuccubusKayko, dayzor, and silver drip
> 
> This chapter wouldn't stop. It's over 2k and my chapter are usually half that but I kept being like "Ok, stopping point... now?" and it was like "Nope! More to go!" so. The first time I finished it, it was just over 1k (my normal chapter length) but then I realized I forgot something and it _added another 750 words_ whyyyy *flops*
> 
> Edit: Also! I forgot to tell you and be excited. Guys! The story hit 1k kudos. *twirls* I feel so loved.

The day of the coronation comes and Loki hasn't brought himself to return to Tony's home. He had viciously defended his position and, finding it to be the wrong one, leaves him feeling wrong footed. He has other things to worry about anyway, he decides.

He can concern himself with Tony as much as he likes after the coronation.

* * *

 

Loki is expected to escort his mother down the procession. He looks for Tony and Pepper but it's hardly surprising he's unable to spot them in the throng of people with nothing more than the sweeping gaze he can use. He even looks for Tony's Rhodey who is high ranking and well respected enough that Loki would have expected him to be posted close to the royal family for something so prestigious.

But Loki has only met Rhodey a few times and the soldier uniforms are intentionally designed to make individual soldiers difficult to recognize so grudges earned during battles not their own won't be held against them. Wherever he is, and he _must_ be here, Loki can't find even him.

He turns left when they reach the end of the walkway and guides Mother to her spot of the stairs and continues up several more steps to his own place.

Above her now that he has returned old enough to assume regency if he is needed in an emergency. Thor may be heir (well, he will after today, anyway) but Loki _is_ still a prince in the line of succession, as unlikely as it is to ever pass to him.

Thor sends them a wink from where he kneels in the great hall before their father. Mother gives him an indulgent smile but Loki rolls his eyes then pointedly flicks them towards their father. The same way he used to flick them towards their tutors when Thor ceased paying attention.

It does not bode well for Asgard that such childish habits from their youth have persisted. At least, not during such a formal event. Thor should _know better_.

But this is only his coronation as heir. Nothing that happens today is anything that cannot be undone or corrected later.

Loki has some decades yet to whip Thor into shape for his coronation as king. Loki can only do his best to try to lessen the unmitigated disaster it will be.

Loki is as shocked as everyone when Father trails off his speech to whisper, "Frost Giants."

* * *

 

Hela frowns as she feels a familiar spirit enter her realm.

* * *

 

Pepper is annoyed. She's annoyed and she's going to absolutely _kill_ Tony when he finally deins to show up. They were supposed to go to the coronation together early so they could get a spot at the front near Rhodey (even if they can't actually stand with him because he was on duty).

It will have started by now.

* * *

 

Hela plucks his spirit out of the tree it has sought comfort in and calls him to her throne room. He is confused, blinking too often and eyes not quite focused, but that is not uncommon with those new to her realm.

"You should not be here, brother," she says and her voice echoes with the weight of the Goddess of Death. "It is not your time yet."

"Hurts. Cold," he stammers to her.

"Death usually is," she tells him, placing her hands on his cheeks and trying to focus his attention. To draw it to reality. "I'm sending you back now. We shall have words once you are alive brother, you promised to be more careful with your experiments in your forge."

"Hela?" his voice is so small, so pleading. She has never heard him sound like that. She hates it. There is a strength to her brother that so many fail to see. He should never sound so lost.

She bestows the blessing that will restore him to his body with a kiss to his brow.

"Come home to heal, princeling," she whispers comfortingly as she can manage through her own distress. "I will be waiting for you."

* * *

 

Pepper considers going to the coronation without Tony. If he wants to be late, it's his own fault and it isn't _her_ job to get him there. Except that centuries of friendship has taught her that he's probably up to his ears in inventing and if she doesn't pull him out he may never _come_ out.

In the end she sighs and goes to get her oldest friend.

The gathered Einherjar outside his house makes her start running but she's caught by Rhodey.

"Don't, Pepper," he says. He has to put an arm across her chest to hold her back. “There’s no body and it’s a relatively small pool of blood. We don’t know that he’s dead.”

“ _What?!_ ” she screeches, she hadn’t even known _there’s no body_ was an option in this conversation.

Rhodey passes her off to Bera and Pepper doesn't have the wherewithal to wonder where she came from or how she came to be here.

"They'll get this sorted," Bera promises.

Pepper can only cling to her friend and watch the golden soldiers milling about.

* * *

 

Loki tries to observe the force with the eyes of an uncaring investigator. It wasn't like he and Tony had been (were still?) courting or paramours. It might even be a stretch to call them _lovers_. They had been friends though, he thinks.

His last words had not been kind though, and he begs the Norns they are not the last he will speak to the other man.

Loki reminds himself that Tony has survived far worse before they even met, but it is a cold comfort as he stares at a smudged pool of blood on the floor of his friend's forge.

His eyes trail to a familiar shape. Laying on his side, metal body smashed, arm broken. As he approaches the downed bot, a crunch beneath his boot draws his attention to the shattered remains of the single optical eye. He lifts his foot away though the bot is clearly offline and, even if he weren't, he would have no feelings about a shattered lens no longer connected to him.

He reaches out and tries to repair the bot. It requires much effort. He is neither healer nor smith and this is not where his skills lie, but Tony had had loved this creature and Loki is familiar enough with what it should look like that he can encourage it back to what it should be.

"It was the Jotunar!" Thor rages but Loki tunes him out as background noise. "They found a way into Asgard. When their attempt to get into the vault failed they decided to claim our blacksmith instead!"

"Don't be foolish, Thor," Father directs calmly, apparently content to ignore whatever Loki is doing. "The attack on the vault was done with ice. They have perished for their folly. There is no ice here."

Frantic beeping and whirring fills the air, finally drawing their attention. Thor steps towards them, hammer raised and thunder crackling. Loki rises, intending to place himself between his brother and the panicking bot, but Dummy begins to flail on the floor, his beeping taking on an even more frantic pace, and Loki realizes what's about to happen a moment too late.

Too late to transport away or erect a shield, Loki takes a deluge of white foam to his back. His only comfort is that Thor took the foam to the front and, therefore, the _face_.

Father, somehow, conveniently wound up standing directly behind the two of them.

"It is a creation of Tony's," Loki's tone becomes cutting as he magics away the fire suppression foam from his own form. He ignores Thor's pleading eyes to do the same for him (it's in his _hair_ and it serves him right) and turns his attention back to the bot on the floor who's flailing has reduced itself to terrified high pitched whines and twitches.

"Dummy, pay attention," he commands sharply, as one does an errant child. Knowing how Tony treats (treated? Loki must be realistic about this as painful as it may be), it's not an inaccurate description. "Did you see who did this?"

He gets a sad whine in response. Dummy closes his claw and bursts it outward before flopping on the floor again with another sad whine.

"No," he sighs, "I suppose that was too much to hope for."

"Brother, please," Thor ramps up his charm.

"You brought it on yourself, I should simply leave you to suffer your fate," Loki snaps. His temper shortened by worry and, though he'd never admit it, by the briefest blossom of hope he'd allowed to bloom that Dummy might point them in the direction of Tony's kidnappers. To have that hope crushed when he had been foolish to let it grow in the first place leaves him feeling vindictive.

Loki throws a quick glance behind him at their father to see his reaction. To judge just how much trouble he would be left in. Father seems to be paying them no mind, but that doesn't mean anything. Loki can't risk Father's ire when he may require resources to find Tony later.

"But you are fortunate I know the misery of getting that out of hair once its dried and I have no desire to inflict that upon the servant who will wash your hair later," Loki concedes as though granting a great boon. A wave of his hand and his brother is clean.

"You two," Thor points to two Einherjar. "Help Howardson's creation to its... feet."

Thor pauses to squint, apparently realizing that Dummy does not, in fact, _have_ feet but doesn't correct himself.

"The Lady Pepper is likely still outside, she will take responsibility for him," Loki tacks on. "Dummy, they will take you to Pepper."

The way the bot grabs his collar almost changes his mind but... "I must focus on finding Tony. You must go to Pepper so I may do that."

A sad whine is the response, but the bot follows the two soldiers outside.

"If you two are finished," Father calls kneels down and runs his fingers along the floor. Some fine powder shimmers on his fingertips when he lifts them. "I've found something actually useful."

Loki moves closer to get a better look just as Father sniffs his fingers then touches his tongue to the powder.

"What is it?" Loki asks but his father ignores him as he studies the floor more closely, almost glaring at it.

Father reaches under the table and pinching a shard of something between his thumb and forefinger. It's only once he's dropped it in his palm that Loki is able to see it well enough to recognize it.

"What is it, Father?" Thor asks.

"It looks like the same material as the leaves from Tony's pendant," Loki answers. " _Kristallað Helheim_."

But Father doesn't acknowledge his answer. Instead, he rises to his feet and looks around the room. Loki spots a large pile of the crystals on the floor near where Tony always kept his flower crown when he wasn't wearing it. No doubt it has met the same fate as the pendant.

Loki's fingers trace over the wear in the wood of the curved display it had sat on for as long as Loki can remember.

"Hel's Blessing has been destroyed," Loki murmurs.

"The Jotunar will pay for this!" Thor declares.

In a way Loki can understand, every child in Asgard grew up with stories of this crown. It is as woven into their history as Father wielding Gungnir to defeat the Jotunar. It feels like losing a piece of history to have the crown destroyed.

"There is no ice here," Father says in the tone he always uses to sooth Thor's temper. "It's most likely the timing here was merely a coincidence," he pronounces.

"But Father-!" Thor protests.

" _But_ ," Father interrupts him. "He is an important supplier to the realm and it's possible one or the other was meant as a distraction. We shall continue to treat them as if they were part of the same attack due to the timing."

Loki almost lets his shoulders slump in relief but he forces them straight. "I will let the Lady Pepper know to inform his sister. I'm afraid I've never met her."

Or, oddly enough, been told her name. How had Loki never noticed that before? To be fair, she didn't regularly come up in conversation but surely Tony would have mentioned her enough that Loki should know more about her than her _existence_?

It is suspicious but there are a handful of people that Tony was always sure could be trusted above all else.

Pepper, Rhodey, Staneson, the mysterious sister, and Loki himself were above suspicion, Tony always insisted.

Loki has never been so kind hearted.

* * *

 

Tony wakes to pain in his chest and freezing limbs.

They had managed to sneak up on him in the forge. The pendant, his emergency call to Hela had exploded in the middle of dissolving.

His chest.

Tony's hands shoot down but there is cloth in the way and... a cable? Why? Why not just use healing magic? He starts panting, panicked short breaths, as he rips the cloth to get to his actual skin and see the damage.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun Dun Duuuuuuuuun
> 
> (Also, the summary for this chapter was almost "Odin licks the science!")
> 
>  _Kristallað Helheim_ \- Crystallized Helheim  
> (hey look, the crystals have names now. That's new.)
> 
> Oh. I should go to bed now. I've apparently reached the talkative stage of tired and, hey guess what, you've my captive audience. mwuahahaha.  
> ... Yup. Bed for Janec now. Night. If you comment quickly I might still be up but I make no promises for the coherency of my responses *cackles*
> 
>  
> 
> Who am I kidding? I'm totally going to stare at my inbox for the next hour hitting refresh. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hela plots. Thor rages. Loki just tries to prevent war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'ed by Succubus Kayko, silver drip, and dayzor

Hela feels the intrusion of the Bifrost in her realm and rises to her feet. Tony has died recently, someone should be there to ensure he doesn't fall flat on his face on the way to his bedroom. (And if there is a creeping need tugging at her heart to make sure he is fine... well, _alive_ does not always mean _whole_.)

But it is not her brother waiting for her. 

Tony's soldier, golden clad, with a box in his hands. A man who has come to Helheim rarely. He holds the box out to her but his hand falters when she tells him, "He cannot be dead. I sent him back."

Rhodey makes a choked sound as she says it. 

"Did you-"

"Nothing useful," she says shortly. 

She hadn't gotten anything useful because she hadn't known she'd needed to. If her brother is ever foolish enough to die again, she is going to interrogate him until his teeth rattle around in his skull before she sends him back.

She had done everything she could to ensure his safety when he was beyond her protections and still it was not enough. But the blame does not rest entirely at her feet. Oh, no. Odin has not kept a clean house and look what it has lead to.  

"You should return to Asgard," she tells Tony's soldier, low and quiet, a plan already taking shape in her mind. 

"I don't think you should be alone right now," he insists as

 he steps forward, surprisingly willing to leave the boundary of the Bifrost site. "I can send Pepper if you'd rather have her, I understand you know her better."

"Then why did you not send her in the first place?" Hela's hands tighten their grip on the box and the sweet smell of honey fills the air. 

Honey cakes. As though that might soften her reaction to the loss of someone so dear! Hela hold back an angry sneer. 

"Some of the higher ups were worried how you might react," he holds his hands up in a way that is no doubt meant to be placating. 

Odin, he means. _Odin_ worried how she might react. He has good reason to. Losing the prince of another realm is no small insult. Losing _her_ prince, well... 

"But you're not going to prove him right, are you?" 

"I am far older than you and have seen more blood and war than you can possibly imagine," Hela snarls at him, stepping forward. Once upon a time this had made her little princeling retreat step by step but the man before her is no thousand year old boy and he stands firm. "Your pitiful attempt at reverse manipulation will not work on me."

Tony's soldier just stares at her, waiting. 

Hela makes a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. She doesn't need comfort, she needs to _hunt_. 

"Send Pepper then," she concedes because he expects her to. Because it will get him to call the Bifrost. Then, because she hasn't actually ever tried to leave Helheim since her banishment and this may not work, she tacks on, "And Dummy."

Hesitation draws her eye. 

"He was-" Nervousness. 

Hela steps back into his space and asks sharply, "He was _what_?"

"Dummy was damaged substantially in the attack on Tony. Prince Loki did what he could to put him back together but he warned that only a temporary solution."

"All the more reason he should be home where he will be safe," she says smoothly. "Clearly you lot can't be trusted with anything important."

She forces herself to visibly calm and step back once more. She doesn't _need_ to catch a ride with him when he leaves via the Bifrost, there are other ways into Asgard, but it's certainly the fastest and easiest though. 

It takes a lot of effort to step away from him. 

"Send him," she orders, chin high. 

He sighs but nods. "Watcher!"

The rainbow comes down and takes him. 

Hela steps into it. 

* * *

  


A loud crash sounds from the other side of the door making Loki, Sif, and the Warriors Three hesitate before continuing. Loki does not fail to notice that they let him through the door first. 

Do they believe him the most likely to be able to sooth his brother or is he merely a sacrificial lamb? Could go either way. Sif, in particular, hates him. 

The others pause at the mess of food and flipped table but Loki grew up with these outbursts. They may be less abundant than when Thor was a thousand but, despite what mother likes to believe, a person can only change so much. 

Loki sits next to Thor and studies the mess. 

It is a fine metaphor. 

"You will not find me good company, brother," Thor warns. His face is the one he uses when he is Not Sulking, which clearly means he _is_ sulking. 

"When have you ever been good company?" Loki asks.

"Today should have been my day of triumph."

"Today should have been _Asgard's_ day of triumph, you mean," Loki corrects. He means it to be the kind of gentle reminder that he has been making since his return and realized that while he has grown, Thor has not. 

Unfortunately, now is not the time for such reminders. Thor looks away from him, hurt playing across his face before it’s replaced with anger.

"Should you not be searching for your beloved?" Thor sneers, a pointed strike at what he assumes to be one of Loki's soft points. Loki narrows his eyes 

Spending the occasional night in someone's bed hardly makes them _beloved_ but now is hardly the time to point that out. Again, Thor focuses on the _wrong point._

"Heimdall uses his sight to search for him. Mother and I both have spells to seek him as well. Even Father uses the power of the Odinforce to find him. I think I can be forgiven for taking a few moments to check on my brother."

"Why?" Thor demands, jumping to his feet. Agitated and pacing. 

"Thor..." Loki closes his eyes and rests his forehead in his hand.

"Why do they insist on searching when it is clear who took him?"

Loki's eyes shoot open. He stares at the floor for a moment before dragging them up to his brother's face. No. Damn Thor! He knows his brother, once he's got an idea in his head he's impossible to divert. He needs to buy time to come up with a way to end this.

"Thor, stop. I know that look," Loki rises to his feet, better to grab Thor if he needs to. 

"Yes! We will go to Jotunheim and demand the return of the Merchant of Helheim. We will be ensuring the safety of Asgard's borders, restoring one of her citizens, and earning the glory of battle all in one fell swoop!"

"This is madness! They don't _have him_ , Thor!" 

(Which may or may not be true. They _could_ , in truth, be the ones that took him, though it is unlikely. Now is not the time to make that point. With Thor so dead set on the one theory, any possibility that it _could_ be true will be taken as confirmation that it _is_. Norns damn him.)

Loki looks to Thor's friends, beseeching their support with a glance. 

They protest but they are too loyal to Thor and too easily swayed and Loki can feel the creeping dread of their Father's (entirely deserved) wrath. 

"You are coming with me...?" Thor asks him, no longer the raging, pacing oaf but a pleading, sad pup. 

"Yes, of course," Loki says. 

A guard. He can send a guard to Father. Heimdall will delay them at the Bifrost long enough for Father to come. 

"I won't let my brother march into Jotunheim alone.”

Loki can prevent war without losing the trust and the love of his brother. He _can_.


End file.
